


Clouds In My Coffee

by Batsutousai



Series: Tumblr Prompts [1]
Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, Thor (Movies), Thor (Movies) RPF
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst, Battlefield, Character Death, Crack, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, Ficlet Collection, Fluff, Genderbending, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Physical Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-16
Updated: 2012-12-15
Packaged: 2017-11-18 18:58:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 48,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/564242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batsutousai/pseuds/Batsutousai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a challenge, 30 days of Tomki/FrostPudding.</p><p>Warnings change by 'chapter', so check each one for specifics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Holding Hands

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Français available: [Clouds In My Coffee](https://archiveofourown.org/works/962436) by [Alhanais](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alhanais/pseuds/Alhanais)



> **Disclaim Her:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Marvel. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. The characters of Thomas "Tom" Hiddleston is based on a real person, and no offence is intended; this is only for the amusement of myself and other like-minded (read: mentally ill) fans.
> 
>  **Challenge:** [30 Day OTP Challenge](http://batsutousai.tumblr.com/post/35811751905/ericandys-30-day-otp-challenge)
> 
>  **A/N:** So, I saw this challenge to write a bit for your OTP every day. I thought about doing FrostIron, or Harry/Voldie, since those are my other two big OTPs, but I seem to be in a Tomki mood right now. (And I keep saying I'd try my hand at fluffy Tomki, this is the way to make myself do it. XD)  
>  Also, I fail at NaNo. In case anyone's been wondering. *sigh*
> 
> There's no word count challenge, just prompts. So these could be anywhere from 100 words to upwards 1K. No promises on which day will have what. XP  
> I'll add warnings as they come up. But I can tell you now that there'll be fluff (I'll try), angst, humour, fighting, gender-bending, and likely enough sex to make you people happy and me twitchy. XP

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter Warnings:** Angst, mentions of quasi-cannibalism

**_Falling._ **

It happened every night. He closed his eyes to sleep and the darkness was like the Void, and he would fall, _fall, fall,_ until he jerked away, heart beating like weapons on the battlefield, _clash-clash-clash-clash._ He used to get up and shove the curtains open, letting in the light from the street, and that helped. Because the Void would close in, but there would be that shine of light across his eyes and he'd need only squint one open to reassure himself that he was on Midgard, safe in the flat he'd found for himself, where not even Thor could find him to drag him back to the dark dungeons to serve out the last of his punishment.

When he moved in with Thomas, the curtain being open would wake the human. He suffered through two whole nights of darkness and falling, _falling, falling..._

_A hand grabbed his, warm and safe._

"Loki?"

_He scrabbled against the darkness with his free hand, against the remembered claws and teeth digging into his flesh as the Chitauri found him, thought he was dead and anything dead was fair game for an empty stomach–_

"Loki!"

He jerked awake, heart beating a battle against his ribs, and stared into the dark room. Thomas' hand was clutched in his, and Loki had to force his fingers to loosen. "Light," he whispered, and it sounded so weak, so like a mortal child afraid of the dark.

A light clicked on at the far side of the bed, next to Thomas, and the human turned back to Loki, the hand not held in a death grip coming up to brush sweat-soaked hair away from Loki's eyes. "Hey."

Loki took a deep breath, returning himself to the god he was – though he couldn't seem to make himself let go of the human's hand. "I had not intended to wake you," he allowed; an apology he would rarely give voice to. But there were rules and manners to consider in any relationship, and theirs was complicated enough on Thomas without Loki taking his dreams out on him.

"I know you didn't," Thomas returned, his free hand smoothing through Loki's hair, catching gently against tangles. "Nightmare?"

"I– Yes."

"Want to talk about it?"

"No."

Thomas smiled that smile that said he knew exactly what Loki was thinking, and it always made Loki want to rip his face off. "Come on," the human directed, pulling at Loki's hand holding his as he climbed out of the bed.

Frowning, Loki let himself be led from the bed, knowing he wouldn't be getting back to sleep for some hours yet. "What are we doing?" he demanded, because he didn't like just following along, unknowing.

Thomas just smiled back at him and stopped in the kitchen. "May I have my hand back?" he requested as he checked the kettle and started it heating.

"No," Loki decided.

Thomas glanced back at him, a faint frown writ in the furrow between his eyebrows, then shook his head and pulled a saucepan out of the cabinet and set it on the hob. "Okay," he murmured and led Loki around the small kitchen as he collected various ingredients. He almost fumbled the sugar, but Loki caught it before it hit the floor and set it on the worktop next to the milk Thomas had already set out.

"Thanks," the human said as he sat a container of cocoa powder next to the sugar.

"What are you making?"

"Hot chocolate," Thomas explained as he served out some cocoa powder and sugar into the saucepan.

"Why?"

"Because you don't like warm milk."

Loki took a moment to wonder what his dislike of warm cow lactation had to do with making hot chocolate. Which, it appeared, _also_ required warm cow lactation.

"Try it before you complain."

Loki scowled and held his tongue against any further questions; Thomas would make his intentions clear in time, and nothing Loki said would make him explain himself before he was ready. _'Infuriating mortal.'_

Five minutes later, Thomas turned off the heat and requested, "Pull out a couple mugs?"

Loki grabbed the mugs and set them on the worktop without a word, more curious than irritated, considering the sweet scent in the air.

Thomas poured out some of the pale brown liquid into each mug, then set the saucepan with the rest on one of the unused burners. "There. It's a bit hot, so be careful," he cautioned.

Loki huffed and flicked some cold at the two mugs before picking one up and sipping at it. "It's...good..." he realised.

Thomas grinned at him, the sort of stupid smile that Thor would wear, but with so much less _stupid_. "I'm glad." He sipped at his own mug and let out a happy hum. "Excellent call on the temperature."

"Of course it was."

Thomas leaned over and kissed his cheek. Loki snorted, touched by the caring gesture, but disinclined to show as much. "Come on," Thomas directed and led the way to the couch. There, he turned on the television and leaned comfortably against Loki's side, their clasped hands held easily in his lap.

Loki finished his hot chocolate before murmuring into the mug, "I dream of the Void."

Thomas hummed noncommittally and they were both silent for a long while, watching the commercials playing on the telly.

"We can get you a nightlight," Thomas finally offered as the programme on this channel started up.

"Nightlight?"

"Yeah. A little light that plugs into the wall. There's an outlet on your side, and that shouldn't bother me."

"What makes you–?"

"Loki, I haven't forgotten the mysteriously opening curtains."

Loki huffed and squeezed Thomas' hand a little too hard, making the human wince. "Fine."

"We'll go in the morning."

"Fine."

"Do you want to try going back to bed?"

"No."

"Can _I_ go back to bed?"

Loki considered the human's hand in his, thought about giving it up, and shook his head. "No."

Thomas let out a sound halfway between a laugh and an irritated sigh. He set his mug on the coffee table, took Loki's to set next to his own, and muted the sound on the telly. "Here, switch hands," he offered, knocking his and Loki's entwined hands against Loki's free hand.

Bemused, Loki allowed the trade, then let out a huff of laughter as Thomas used their entwined hands as a pillow in Loki's lap for his head.

"Good night, darling," Thomas murmured, eyes slipping closed.

Loki tangled his free hand in the human's curls. "Good night, Thomas," he replied, settling in for a night on the couch, the light from the television flickering over both of them.


	2. Cuddling Somewhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter Warnings:** Fluff, Loki being a bit of a brat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would pick the day before one of my busiest days this month to start this challenge, wouldn't I? My grandmother's due into town in a couple hours, and I have a Stitch-&-Bitch-esque thing on the other side of town tonight, so let's see how well this ficlet goes.
> 
> Oh, and in case anyone was wondering, no, these ficlets don't, necessarily, happen in the same universe. (Or in either of my previous Tomki universes.) And they don't really follow in order of time, either. They just sort of...happen.  
> And I prefer writing from Loki's perspective, but sometimes Tom works better. Like for this one.

"I said no."

Tom sighed. "I don't see why it's such a big deal–"

Loki turned an absolutely terrifying glare on him, then vanished from sight.

Tom rubbed a hand down his face. "I know you're still here." Loki never went far. Tom sometimes wondered if the god just didn't trust him, but, then, he'd known before they'd even _met_ that he had trust issues. Normally, it didn't bother him, but today... "Hiding isn't going to stop me from going out, Loki."

A green barrier appeared over the front door of the flat.

"Oh, _that's_ mature."

Behind the barrier, the door locked.

"I can go out the window."

"You'll break your neck," Loki replied, and at least he was _talking_ now.

"Probably," Tom agreed cheerfully. He was about ninety percent certain that the god wouldn't let him hurt himself.

The barrier over the door vanished, but when Tom went to unlock the door, the lock wouldn't budge.

"Loki."

"I don't _want_ you going out with them," the god finally admitted.

Tom closed his eyes and rubbed at them, glad that Loki was, _finally_ , being honest about the whole thing. "You can come _with_ ," he offered. "It's not like they don't already know I'm living with you."

" 'Living with'," Loki scoffed.

" _Sleeping with_ ," Tom stressed, because, yeah, he'd told his best friends he was sleeping with Loki almost two months ago. They'd thought it was an hysterical joke, still did, and Tom kind of wanted to prove them all idiots. But Loki was like a hermit when it came to interacting with anyone else Tom spent time with other than him.

Loki was silent for a long moment before he said, "They don't believe you."

"Sounds like cause for mischief."

That was always the magic word, and Loki reappeared with a flourish of green and gold sparks, smirking for all he was worth. "Did you say, _mischief_?" he purred.

"I believe I did. Interested?"

Loki opened his mouth to agreed, then paused and narrowed his eyes. "Thomas, are you–?"

Tom leaned forward and kissed the god before he could start being ridiculously suspicious and ruin all of Tom's hard work. "Please?" he whispered against Loki's lips, putting just the right amount of begging in his voice to win the god over. (And, okay, maybe it was a bit unfair to play Loki this way, using all his weaknesses to cohere him into coming to the cinema, but it wasn't like Loki didn't do it to him all the time. And Tom was honestly sick of spending every night in because Loki didn't want him going out without him, and refused to leave the flat.)

"Yes, fine," Loki agreed, sounding more than a little put-upon.

The door unlocked.

Tom brushed a hand through Loki's hair, a little too fond of the way it slid through his fingers like silk. "Thank you."

Loki huffed, but he didn't try making any more excuses and followed Tom out of their flat and down the road to the cinema.

Tom's friends were already there, waiting. The looks on their faces when they caught sight of Tom's date was worth every second of fighting with the god. "I'm sorry," he said to the lot of them as they sort of stared disbelievingly at the smirking god at his side, "but _who_ was taking his work home with him?"

"Oh. My. God," one of them breathed.

"Exactly," Loki replied, smug.

Tom left the stand-off – he had trouble of thinking of it any other way – for another couple minutes before asking, "Are we going in? Or are we going to stand out here all night?"

"Oh! Here, yeah." Tickets were passed out and they headed in.

Tom bought a bucket of popcorn for himself and Loki to share – the god always complained that the stuff was gross and got stuck between his teeth, but he usually ate more than half the bag when Tom made some at home – and a box of sweets for himself, then pulled the god into the correct room. They caught a group of seats near the middle, all of them clustered between two rows, and settled in for the previews.

The title screen was just popping up when the armrest between his and Loki's seats vanished. Tom had half expected it, honestly, and moved the popcorn without any fuss so the god had room to scoot right up to his side, one arm wrapped around Tom's back and held tight. Tom moved his arm to rest comfortably across Loki's shoulders, pulling him just the slightest bit closer, and rested his head against the god's.

Okay, so maybe Tom knew _exactly_ why Loki always refused to go out with him: What sort of God of Mischief liked to cuddle?


	3. Gaming OR Watching a Film

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter Warnings:** Crack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This is Clark Gregg's fault.](http://collider.com/joss-whedon-the-avengers-cast-interview/159372/)

"Really?" Jeremy Renner said as he opened the door. " _Really_?"

Thomas shrugged. "I couldn't leave him at the hotel. Remember the _last_ time?"

Loki smirked as he remembered his extremely clever, passive-aggressive way of complaining about the mortal leaving him behind when he went to spend time with his _Avengers_ co-stars. It had involved a fair amount of shaving cream, some tin-foil that he refused to give the origin of, the television set, most of Thomas' luggage, and a male prostitute. Loki may or may not have used said prostitute's mobile phone to text pictures of the result to his lover and his fellow actors.

Thomas had not been amused.

Renner sighed and stepped back to let them both in. "If you're going to wreck my house," he requested of Loki, "please either keep it to the patio, or use edible items."

Thomas grabbed Loki's arm and tugged him towards the living room, away from the kitchen. "You promised you would behave if I brought you along."

"Did I?" Loki wondered. And you'd think Thomas would know better than to trust any promises handed down by the God of _Lies_.

"I will withhold sex," Thomas threatened in a hiss. As if his co-stars didn't already know he was sleeping with the god he played.

Loki smiled, slow and knowing. "No, you won't."

Thomas considered that for a moment, then settled on, "I will try very, very hard. And we'll both be miserable. Neither of us wants that. Behave."

"Are you attempting to blackmail me? Truly?"

Thomas pointed a finger at him, opened his mouth to respond, then appeared to think better of it and snapped his mouth shut. Shaking his head, he turned and continued his way into the living room.

Loki chuckled and followed the human, deciding he would look around Renner's kitchen later.

Those humans that had arrived before Loki and Thomas were already gathered around the television set, watching arrows move up the screen. Two square pads sat on the floor in front of the television, Scarlett Johansson and Mark Ruffalo each standing on one. They were moving oddly on the pads while the others cheered them on, and it took Loki an embarrassing amount of time to realise they were attempting to match the arrows on the pads to the ones on the screen.

"It's called _Dance, Dance Revolution_ ," Clark Gregg informed him as he stopped next to Loki, having just arrived.

"There seems to be little 'dancing' involved," Loki returned. Not that he knew overmuch of dancing, as it was not a common pastime for a warrior species. Not to say they didn't having dancing on Asgard, because they did, but it was not something oft enacted, and it certainly wasn't some great form of entertainment, as the Midgardian television programmes would have him believe.

Gregg considered the two on the pads, where Johansson appeared to have won. "I suppose that depends on your idea of dancing."

Loki turned an unimpressed stare on him.

Gregg laughed.

"Tom!" Ruffalo called as he stepped off his pad. "Give it a try!"

"I'm not sure about this..." Thomas replied, even as he stepped up to the abandoned pad.

"It's easy," Johansson promised, a curl to her lips that would have better served the spy she played on set.

"That's reassuring," Thomas muttered, but he was grinning, wide and free.

Johansson let him pick the song, then they were off, both frowning in concentration as they tried to match the arrows.

"A child's game," Loki muttered.

"Not all of us are gods," Gregg reminded him, amused.

Loki sneered. "I am aware."

It was a few rounds before Chris Hemsworth – always looking to include Loki on the rare occasion that Thomas allowed him along – called, "Loki! Why don't you give it a try?" after Johansson had soundly defeated him.

"I'm not sure–" Thomas started.

"An excellent idea," Loki decided, because if Thomas thought it was a poor plan, Loki was all for it. (Something about being told to behave made him want to act out as much as possible.)

"Don't break the pad," Thomas muttered as Loki passed him.

Loki smirked and settled in to destroy Johansson, in as extravagant a fashion as possible.

And he didn't break the pad.

-0-0-0-

Half a year later, at a press conference, Thomas would bring up _Dance, Dance Revolution_ at Renner's house, and Clark Gregg would state, in all seriousness, _"Nobody Lambadas like Loki."_


	4. On a Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter Warnings:** Fluff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I had two different ideas for today. I'll probably do the other one some other time, though it might be an actual fic, as opposed to one of these prompt fills. ^.^" (Courting, btw. I've seen it a bit in FrostIron, but never in Tomki.)
> 
> For once, Loki is **not** being a little snot. *shock*
> 
> Also, I don't know if anyone is a scholar of Old Norse and can correct my grammar? 'Cause I can pretty much guarantee I screwed that one up... ^.^"

Loki watched with a frown as Thomas finished getting ready for a day at the theatre. "You'll be back at six," he insisted.

Thomas sighed. "I will _try_ ," he replied. It was the same thing he'd said the past two days when Loki made mention of his long hours. And then, even though he _knew_ Loki wouldn't give him a straight answer, he added, "I don't know why it's so important."

"Because I _say it is_ ," Loki snapped, glaring. "Do _not_ make me come and get you."

Thomas shuddered. "I'll do my best. And please don't burn down the theatre the day before our performance."

"I wouldn't burn it down," Loki returned.

"Don't do anything that would keep us from performing tomorrow," Thomas settled on as he grabbed his coat. "Right. I will _try_ to be home by six."

Loki snorted and watched out of the corner of one eye as Thomas bustled out the front door. He waited fifteen minutes – Thomas occasionally forgot something and had to run back – before pushing out of the couch he'd been sprawled across and going to hunt down something to wear.

Dressed, Loki pulled out Thomas' suit – not the one he would be wearing it to the British Academy Film Awards in a few days, because Thomas had already had that cleaned and set aside, and Loki didn't want to start the evening with the human in a bad mood – and left the flat with it, heading down to the cleaners Thomas usually used while in London. He left it there for the day, then continued down the block to the shop he'd placed an order at a couple weeks ago. (Thomas had been quite confused when he came back to his trailer for an early lunch, only to find Loki missing. The god had been required to think fast to come up with an excuse for where he'd been. Not that he _needed_ to make excuses.)

The watch he'd ordered was a handsome piece, platinum with gold numbers and green and blue hands. Inscribed across the watch face were the words _ELSKIT ǪLLU SINNI_. 'Love for all time'. Perhaps a little overly sentimental, but Loki had trouble enough showing that he truly cared for Thomas, so he would go a little overboard in creating this gift, letting Thomas know every time he looked at the watch that Loki honestly loved him.

 _And,_ Loki reminded himself as he collected the gift, _it's not like many people can read the old languages._

Loki spent some time debating about getting the human flowers. The current culture said that females were the ones to receive flowers, but Thomas had occasionally received some after a show, which he'd explained as more of a 'Congratulations on a fantastic performance', as opposed to a 'I love you very much' gesture. Not that enjoying the performance meant someone didn't love the performer, because the flowers were usually bought before the performance, but it was less of a romantic gesture.

Loki thought rules about flowers were stupid and decided to just walk away before he gave himself a headache.

He spent a few hours back at the flat, making himself something to eat, then deciding not to eat it because he wasn't hungry, but putting it in the fridge because Thomas would yell at him for wasting food if he binned it. He watched a programme on the telly, decided he was hungry after all, ate a few bites, then put it back in the fridge.

"Gods do _not_ get nervous," he snarled at himself. As if that would change the way his stomach was jumping around and how he kept glancing at the clock, making sure of the time, even though he _knew_ how much time had passed since he'd last checked.

Finally, at five, he went out and picked Thomas' suit up. And then had forty-five minutes to wait.

Thomas pushed the door open just before six. "I'm home," he offered.

Loki had a sudden moment of uncertainty, because Thomas looked rather tired and going out might not have been the best option. But the human's suit was cleaned, the reservations had already been made, and Loki wasn't going to back out now. So he pushed off the couch and pointed at the bedroom. "Go change," he ordered.

Thomas blinked. "Change?"

"Go."

Thomas sighed and dropped his coat over the back of the couch as he passed. "Yeah, okay. Are you going to explain why I needed to be home early?"

Loki just frowned and waited until the human had disappeared into the bedroom before motioning for his magic to change his casual clothing into his favoured suit.

Thomas poked his head back out of the bedroom, blinking. "Why is my–?" He fell silent as he took in Loki's changed attire. "Are you– You're taking me out for my birthday?"

"...yes..." Loki allowed.

Thomas' expression brightened. "I love you too, you secretive arse," he said fondly, then disappeared back into the bedroom.

Loki huffed, half amused, half relieved that Thomas hadn't refused, seemed _happy_ , even. Maybe, for once, Loki _wouldn't_ screw up while trying to do something nice for someone he cared for.

When Thomas came out in his suit, he was smiling. He grabbed Loki's hand before the god could turn away to lead the way to the door and kissed his cheek. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see," Loki returned, squeezing the hand in his briefly before tugging Thomas towards the door. "Our reservation is for six-forty."

"Okay. Let me get my coat," Thomas insisted, slipping his hand from Loki's. As soon as his coat was on, he took Loki's hand again and smiled at the god. "Lead on."

The restaurant they went to was one that, according to Thomas' sister, he liked a lot. Judging by the way Thomas' eyes lit up when he realised where they were going, Emma had been truthful, and Loki made a mental note to be nice to her next time he saw her, as thanks.

"We have a reservation," Loki said to the maître d' once they'd reached him. "Hiddleston is the name." Because Loki avoided using his surname if at all possible. Thomas had never seemed to mind – very likely completely understood – but it occasionally threw other people when Loki either refused to give a last name, or used Thomas'.

The man glanced down his list, then nodded. "Indeed. If you'll follow me, gentlemen?"

They were led to a table in front of a window that overlooked the Thames, as per Loki's request when he'd made the reservation. Thomas smiled at the view and thanked the maître d' before the man left them.

Loki waited until they'd both given their orders before sliding the box with the watch in it across the table. "Here. A gift," he said stiffly.

Thomas smiled and opened the box. "Loki, this is gorgeous," he breathed, immediately switching the watch he was wearing for the new one. "Thank you," he added, meeting Loki's blank stare with an honest smile.

Loki relaxed minutely. "You're welcome."

Thomas brushed his fingers against the glass cover, considering the inscription for a long moment with a faint frown before he smiled again. "I love you, too," he said.

Loki shifted and fingered the stem of his wine glass. "I am...aware that I don't say it often. I will try–"

"Oh, Loki," Thomas interrupted, fond and more than a little amused. "You don't have to force yourself to say anything."

Loki shook his head. "You deserve to hear it more often," he insisted.

Thomas blinked, then let out a quiet breath of a laugh. "One of these days, I will learn to stop anticipating you."

"Yes, that would be wise," Loki returned drily.

Their salads came before Thomas could reply and they both settled in to eat.

The food was good, and Loki asked about Thomas' rehearsal over their main course. Since he usually avoided asking about Thomas' day, the human was thrown for a moment before he shrugged to himself and started talking. And Loki, for once, actually listened and asked the occasional question.

They had just received their coffee and pudding – dark chocolate mousse for Loki, cheesecake for Thomas – when the bells began to ring out the _Westminster Quarters_ before eight o'clock. Loki nudged Thomas under the table with his foot, then motioned out the window. As the first toll for the hour struck, the reflection of the city lights on the water shifted until they spelled out, ' _All my love, and a wish for many years to come_ ' in a curling font that moved smoothly with the gentle waves it was written on. The spell had taken Loki two days to set up, figuring in the exact time, position of the viewer, movement of the water, and any boats that might be out at the moment; Loki was quite pleased with how it had turned out.

"Happy birthday, Thomas," Loki murmured.

Thomas turned to look at him, unshed tears bright in his eyes. "Thank you," he whispered and reached across the table for Loki's hand.

Loki caught Thomas' hand and brought it up to his lips to kiss the human's knuckles. "I love you," he whispered against Thomas' skin, forcing the words out past the pain Odin's lies had carved deep into his heart.

"I love you, too," Thomas replied, voice containing all the certainty Loki struggled with. "This has been an absolutely wonderful birthday. One of the best."

Loki's lips curled with a smug smile. "I'll have to make next year even better," he decided and Thomas laughed.


	5. Kissing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter Warnings:** After-effects of canon torture, H/C, suggestion of masochism (if you tilt your head)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there I was, wondering how the hell I'm supposed to write an interesting ficlet based on the prompt of 'kissing'. I'd just read a FrostIron fic where Loki was refusing kisses – people do this occasionally, without giving a real reason for it – and I was wondering why Loki would do that. Well, the connotations behind kissing a fling might be off-putting, but that doesn't always do it for me. I want a _reason_.  
>  And then, oh yeah.  
> Loki had his lips sewn together.

Morning jogs were his favourite, hands down. The crisp bite of the air, the drowsy motions of commuters just starting their day, the early fog brushing the pavement, soon to be burned away by the light of the just rising sun...

Tom loved the morning.

He was just nearing the Ladies Pond in Battersea Park when a flash of reflected light caught his eye. He was starting to get used to watching out for cameras – though he wasn't quite as good as he'd like to be – and he sighed, resigned that he'd have to find another course for his morning run. 'Don't become predictable,' Luke had warned him more than once, but Tom didn't _like_ having to change his course every other day, just to avoid people taking his picture.

One thing Tom had learned, though, was that if he turned to stare right at the photographer, most of them would make a run for it, afraid of having their camera taken away. So he slowed his jog, took a slow turn, and started back towards the bushes he'd caught the light in.

Nothing moved.

Tom slowed further, uncertain. Maybe it _wasn't_ a photographer. But then, what? Someone with a weapon looking to jump a too curious passerby? Or maybe just something caught on a branch?

He should turn away.

The wind shifted slightly, and carried on it the sound of a muted sob.

Okay, no, Tom couldn't walk away from someone in pain. Which drove everyone who knew him completely mad.

Moved the rest of the way towards the bushes, hands held out in a sign of peace. "You okay?" he called, warning whoever was there that he was coming over.

The muffled sobs fell suddenly silent, and a movement he hadn't even registered stopped. _Shaking shoulders,_ Tom realised, and his heart went out to the person whose outline he could just barely make out. They were hunched over, he thought, and their clothing had some unusual lines, but who was he to judge weird clothing? He was an actor, and it wasn't completely out of the question that he'd go out in one of his costumes for a bite to eat. (Though someone usually yelled when he did.)

"Do you need help?" Tom asked, because the silence and lack of movement was unnerving. And he didn't really want to walk in on someone if they just needed a moment alone. (No matter how much he wanted to help, there were lines. He knew that. Most of the time.)

The silence stretched.

Tom warred with himself for a moment, then shook his head and pushed through the bushes. If the person wanted him to piss off, they would have said so. He hoped.

It was dark in the bushes, the early morning light only barely making it through the trees above them. There was definitely only one person there, crouched against the trunk of one of the older trees. It took Tom a moment to recognise what he was seeing, to get his mind around the fact that this person was wearing something not unlike his Loki costume for _Avengers Assemble_. The glint of reflected light that had caught his attention had been from the shoulder plating, he realised, not a camera lens.

Crazy fan or no – who wore a costume this early in the morning when it wasn't Halloween or they weren't an actor? – Tom couldn't just leave them. And especially if they were a fan, he couldn't just walk away. "Hey," he said, kneeling next to them.

They turned to look at him, then, and Tom almost fell backward in shock to find _his own face_ glaring at him.

"Oh my God," Tom breathed. And then he saw the stains of blood at the other man's lips, the black twine criss-crossing over his lips, and he _knew_. "Loki..."

Some of the anger left the god's eyes, but not all. He seemed almost confused by Tom's reaction – _Or, more likely, by finding someone who shares his face,_ Tom thought.

Tom knew three things: Loki was potentially dangerous and violent, Tom wanted to help him, and it was probably best not to take him to hospital. "Hey," he whispered, touching Loki's arm lightly and wanting to hurt something when the god flinched away, "can you stand?"

Loki narrowed his eyes, suspicious.

"I just–" Tom took a breath. "I want to help," he said, keeping his expression as honest as possible – it wasn't hard, he couldn't lie worth anything. "But I don't have anything here to do so. Need to go back to my flat."

Disbelief.

"I really do," Tom insisted quietly. "Want to help, I mean. I don't– I can't just sit back and watch someone in pain, no matter who they are." _Or how easily they could break my neck,_ Tom added to himself, and hoped Loki wouldn't actually harm him.

Loki snorted and turned his head away.

"Please," Tom tried, because he wasn't sure he could just _walk away_. "Please let me help."

Loki glanced back at him, disbelieving and more than a little confused, but when Tom pushed against the underside of his elbow and started to stand, Loki rose with him.

Loki kept his head down as they walked back to Tom's flat, clearly understanding that people wouldn't take well to seeing the blood still welling from the wounds around his mouth. Tom saw more than one double-take from the few people they passed, and he spared a moment's gratitude for the early hour that had most people in their beds, and those that were awake and about, were likely in a rush to get to work.

At Tom's flat, he led the god to his dining table and sat him down. "I'll be right back," he promised and hurried into his bedroom to find his small medical kit. Setting that on the table, next to Loki, he hunted down the scissors he kept in the kitchen and gave them a quick scrub, since he'd used them the night before to cut up some chicken for dinner, then filled a bowl with water and grabbed a roll of paper towels.

When he finally sat down at the table, all the things he thought he might need arrayed next to him, he wet a paper towel. "I need to wipe away the blood," he offered. "I'll try to be gentle, but I can't promise I won't hurt you, okay?"

Loki narrowed his eyes and gave a jerky nod.

Tom gently brought the paper towel to Loki's chin and the god flinched back. Judging by the anger in Loki's eyes and the way his fingers bit against his legs where they rested in his lap, Tom thought the god hadn't meant to react so obviously to his touch, and he hurt all over again. He brought his free hand up and cupped Loki's cheek, which made him flinch again, then started rubbing – in what he hoped was a soothing manner – his thumb against the god's cheekbone.

Loki's eyes darted down and went a little cross-eyed to stare at the gentle touch, disbelief as loud as a scream. But it kept him distracted from Tom's careful cleaning of his chin and the wounds that pulled and opened anew each time his face shifted.

"There," Tom said at last, the blood cleaned away. Loki's eyes met his, something like surprise in them, and a bead of blood welled up from one of the wounds around his mouth as it twitched. Tom couldn't help but wince – that _had_ to hurt – and gently wiped it away before setting the pink-stained paper towel in the small pile he'd started. He picked up the scissors, then, and showed them to the god. "I'm going to start cutting the string now, okay?"

Loki shook his head and reached up to his own mouth. He tugged at the visible knotted end of the twine, causing blood to well up from almost all of the wounds all over again.

"Stop!" Tom shouted, grabbing Loki's hand and pulling it away. He tore off another paper towel and carefully blotted away the blood. "Please," he whispered to the shock in Loki's eyes, "don't hurt yourself any more, okay? Do I need to get you something to write with?"

Loki considered that for a moment, then nodded.

"Okay. I'll be right back," Tom promised and retreated to his bedroom for some paper and a pen.

As soon as Tom handed the writing implements over, Loki wrote, _'It will not cut. You must unknot the end and pull it through.'_

Tom felt sick at the thought. He'd known he would have to pull the bits of twine from the wounds after he'd cut it, but that would have been small bits for each wound, not the entire thing. He cupped Loki's cheek again, trying to ignore the way the god flinched. "Okay," he whispered. And, then, "I'm sorry," because it was going to _hurt_ , and he knew it.

Loki shrugged, clearly resigned to the necessity. But there was some emotion in his eyes – uncertainty, Tom thought, or maybe fear – that made Tom wish none of this were necessary.

Tom carefully took to the knot with his thumbnail, trying to loosen it enough to undo it without causing further harm. A couple of the wounds bled again, but he managed to get the knot undone with less damage than he'd feared he would cause. "Okay," he whispered again. "Here we go." He quickly pulled the twine through the first two holes, figuring it was rather like ripping off a plaster.

Loki flinched back at the sudden pain, and the rest of the twine tugged against his lips.

Tom dropped the end he'd been holding like it burned. "I'm sorry!" he gasped, horrified. "Oh, God, I'm so sor–"

Loki firmly covered Tom's mouth to shut him up. With his free hand, he wrote, _'Just do it, you obnoxious fool.'_

Loki calling him names should _not_ have been reassuring to Tom, but it sort of was. He nodded and Loki removed his hand. When Tom reached up for the twine, Loki flinched again and his fingers dug into the leather covering his legs. Tom wished there was a way for him to make everything better, other than causing more pain.

A memory came to him, then, of him having skinned his knee and his mum kissing it better.

And, okay, kisses don't _actually_ have healing properties, but it was a way to say, 'I'm sorry' and 'I care about you' and 'I wish I could make this pain go away'. So Tom leaned forward and, very gently, pressed his lips against the wounds at the corner of Loki's mouth that were free of the twine. When he leaned back, he found that Loki's eyes were wide with disbelief and something a little like fear.

"Next two," Tom whispered, ignoring Loki's expression, and quickly pulled out the next length of twine. Loki flinched again, but Tom had been ready for it and let the twine go so it didn't tug. He leaned forward and kissed the two newly-freed wounds.

Loki let out a strangled sound and one hand came up to grip at Tom's arm, the one that he kept cupping Loki's cheek, rather than the one pulling out the twine.

Tom gave him a moment, reading the uncertainty in the green eyes. Once Loki's grip on his arm had loosened slightly, he warned, "Next two," and pulled out the next length of twine. Loki flinched, then Tom leaned in and again kissed the wounds.

Loki's grip tightened on Tom's arm again and he'd closed his eyes by the time Tom pulled back.

Tom kept on, giving warning before pulling out the next length of twine, then kissing the freed wounds. Eleven stitches. Twenty-three small wounds, each bleeding anew at the abuse. Tom considered wiping away the blood, but figured it could wait until they were all done and he could sanitize the wounds at the same time.

By the time Tom had freed all but the last strand, Loki was shaking, eyes clenched shut. Tom finished kissing the newest two, then whispered, "Last one. You're going to have to open your mouth."

Loki's eyes opened then, bright with tears and a sort of vulnerability that made Tom's heart ache. "Why?" the god rasped.

Tom wasn't sure if Loki was asking why he was helping, or why he was kissing the wounds, but since he didn't really have an answer for the latter, he said, "Because no one deserved to have their lips sewn together." Loki's grip tightened on Tom's arm. "Open your mouth?" he requested.

Loki did and Tom quickly pulled the twine through the last hole, dropping it with no little disgust onto the pile of used paper towels. Then he leaned forward and, as gently as he could, pressed his lips to the last wound.

A single tear fell from Loki's eye and he let out a muffled whimper before tilting his head and pressing his lips tight against Tom's. Tom made to pull away – that couldn't _not_ hurt, and he didn't _want_ to hurt Loki – but the hand that wasn't wrapped around Tom's arm gripped the back of his head and held him in place. And when Loki's mouth opened against his, tongue probing insistently against Tom's lips, he let it in without a fight. The taste of blood bloomed across his tongue, iron with a hint of winter's chill, and Tom sort of hated that he didn't mind the taste.

When Loki pulled back, his eyes were still damp, but there was a sense of control, now, that hadn't been there before. "You're a fool," he murmured, blood ringing his mouth and staining his teeth.

Tom soothed his thumb over the god's cheekbone. "Yeah," he whispered, "I know."

Loki finally pulled Tom's hand away from his face, leaned forward to press a hard kiss to Tom's lips, then vanished with a glimmer of green light.

Tom spent a moment staring at the empty chair the god had been sitting in, then shook his head and got up to clean up the mess they'd left behind and his own likely blood-stained mouth. He knew, somehow without question, that Loki would be back.

He was looking forward to it.


	6. Wearing Each Other's Clothes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter Warnings:** Loki's a little shit, Tricksters should NOT be trusted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was like, well, this isn't all that exciting, you know? Because Tom, of course, often dresses as Loki, and my Loki (well, okay, _Interaction_ 's Loki) often wears Tom's clothing. So, not really interesting.  
> But, you know, they _could_ switch _places_...
> 
> Vaguely inspired by the [photo of Tom on set today](http://twitpic.com/bewthw). _Finally_.
> 
> (Sorry about how late this is. I slept in for the first time in, like, a week – it was lovely, and I needed it – and then my father kept coming to pester me about little things, interrupting me from my writing. Ugh. This is why I prefer writing at night. :/ )

"But I _can't_ miss today!" Thomas complained in a raspy whisper before burying his face in his hands to sneeze.

"You can't act if you can't _speak_ , you fool," Loki reminded him, bringing over the lemon and honey tea the human had insisted would help. Loki had tried easing the illness that Thomas had caught, but he seemed unable to do more than make it worse. Thomas had told him, 'Colds always get worse before they get better,' but Loki wasn't about to chance how much worse his magic would make his lover, so he'd stepped back and left Thomas' body fight off the illness naturally.

As luck would have it, the illness had come on while they were in the middle of the filming for _Thor: The Dark World_. Thomas hadn't been needed on set for a couple of weeks, and it was his first day back.

Thomas let out a rather pathetic whine and hid his face against Loki's stomach. Loki sighed and set the tea down on the coffee table before running his fingers through the human's short hair. "They will simply have to film other scenes until you are better," he murmured.

Thomas peeked up at him, then, something in his eyes making Loki wary. "You could do it," he whispered.

"Do what? And stop _talking_ ," Loki added, pointing down at the laptop in Thomas' lap, which he was _supposed_ to be using to communicate with, to lessen the strain on his throat.

Thomas sighed, but obediently turned to type out what he wanted to say, leaning most of his weight on Loki instead of the back of the couch. Loki let him, already resigned to coddling the human while he was sick.

_'You can pretend you're me. Take my place on set until I'm well enough to go in myself. It's not like you don't know the script.'_

Loki raised an eyebrow. "You honestly trust me at your job?" he returned.

Thomas paused to think about it for a long moment, nose and brows furrowed adorably as his sick-fogged mind tried to work through that question, then nodded.

It was Loki's turn to think. Because he didn't really want to leave Thomas alone while he was so ill, but the _mischief_ he could cause, everyone all unknowing that they had the _true_ Loki in their midst... Oh, he _wanted_ to go, but–

Thomas typing had him glancing down at the screen to read, _'I'll text someone to come over.'_

"Very well," Loki agreed.

Thomas flashed him a bright smile, then pulled out his mobile to text whoever he had in mind – Emma, likely, though he had a couple other friends with odd day jobs who would be free for an afternoon and willing to sit with him for a few films.

Loki shook his head and focussed his magic on himself, shifting his own form so he better appeared as Thomas. It wasn't hard – they already shared a great many features – but Loki's jaw was the slightest bit sharper, and he had far less age lines than his mortal mirror. And, most obviously, their hair and eyes differed.

"So weird," Thomas rasped.

"Stop talking," Loki ordered. "Someone has agreed to come over?"

Thomas nodded and held up his mobile so Loki could see the message from Mike saying he'd be over within the next ten minutes.

"Very well." Loki pressed a kiss to the human's forehead, leaving behind a brush of cold against the overheated skin that had Thomas sighing happily. "Silence," he ordered as he stood.

Thomas rolled his eyes, but nodded.

Loki decided that would have to be enough and teleported to the Old Royal Naval College – someone might well notice that he didn't arrive in a car, but he already knew he was running late, and he didn't care for cars, so they would just have to deal.

It was the first time he'd been to this particular set, but he was familiar enough with sets in general after almost a year living with Thomas, and the crew of this film in specific, that it didn't take him long to gather directions.

There wasn't much to be done that day. It was largely a sort of 'This is what you need to know for tomorrow, these are the moves you'll be following, have you got all that?' It was really quite boring, and Thomas probably _could_ have done it, even as sick as he was. It would have saved Loki a day of being _polite_ to everyone. Ugh. And he'd probably have to do it again tomorrow, unless Thomas was much improved.

Still, Loki got a few good spells at the gawking crowds with their mobile phones out and watching. A lot of random tripping, two cases of sudden boils, four supremely embarrassing erections, one broken belt, half a dozen skirts blown high by a mysterious wind gust, and a particularly unstable railing suddenly breaking and sending a group of young men and women falling half a storey to the grass.

When he got back to his and Thomas' flat, Thomas was nowhere in sight, but his sister was leaning against the back of the couch, looking unamused. "Loki," she said as he closed the door behind himself – Thomas had complained more than enough times about Loki randomly appearing in their flat when he _had_ a key.

"Emma," Loki replied, looking towards the mostly-closed bedroom door, the room dark behind it. "He's sleeping?"

Emma gave a quick nod and pushed away from the couch. "Chris Hemsworth called."

Loki raised an eyebrow at her. "I care, why?"

Emma's expression darkened. "Someone could have _died_ –"

"You think me so cruel that I would set mischief that would end in death?" Loki returned, keeping his voice quiet in deference to Thomas sleeping, but no less acidic for its low volume.

"Yeah. I _do_ ," Emma snapped back, her voice equally quiet. "I have been telling Tom for _months_ that you're–"

"Violent and unstable?" Loki suggested, smiling with no warmth. "I'm aware. And should you wish to avoid finding just how _violent and unstable_ I am, you would best leave. _Now_."

"You wouldn't _dare_ ," Emma hissed, but there was fear in her eyes.

Loki spread his arms, the picture of innocence. "Wouldn't I?"

"Tom wouldn't let you," she pointed out.

"Thomas is asleep," Loki returned.

Emma's eyes flickered towards the bedroom door, then she grabbed her coat from the back of the couch and pushed roughly past him and hurried out the door.

Loki sneered after her as the door pulled closed. A flick of his fingers saw the lock sliding home, then he turned and made for the bedroom, intending to check on his human lover before making himself something to eat.

"Did you have to threaten her?" Thomas asked quietly as Loki pushed the door open enough to let him in.

Loki snorted. "I did not _threaten_ her. I simply pointed out the flaw in her certainty that I wouldn't."

Thomas sighed and took a moment to cough before saying, "I wish you two would just get along."

"I have no need of friends amongst Midgardians," Loki commented as he settled on the edge of the bed. "You sound much improved."

Thomas nodded. "I am. But you'll probably have to go in for me tomorrow, anyway."

Loki huffed, brushing his hand through Thomas' curls and checking his temperature, which appeared to have lowered at last. "I will go mad of boredom on that set."

"No, you won't."

Loki stood. "Do you wish for food?"

"Mike brought some soup, if you'll heat that up for me?"

"Very well."

"And, Loki?" Thomas said as Loki reached the bedroom door. When he looked back, the human continued, "Next time, no breaking railings."

"Very well."

"And take my camera?"

Loki smirked. "I'll see what I can do," he promised and left to make them food.


	7. Cosplaying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter Warnings:** Kid!fic, pre-Avengers!Loki, ADORABLE OVERLOAD

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merlin. These prompts are going to kill me. This is me, crying. CRYING.
> 
> No actual slash today. Tom's a bit young. XD

"Pew! Pew! Pew-pew!" Tom shouted as he ran around the backyard. His father had bought him an _awesome_ Iron Man costume and he was taking down _all_ the bad guys. (And, by 'bad guys', he meant the trees and rocks and lawn chairs. Evil, evil things.)

"I thought your human holiday for costume wasn't for another four months," a shadowed form said.

Tom tugged off his helmet and grinned at the man. "Hi, Lo-Lo!"

The man huffed at the irritating nickname. "Lo _ki_ , Thomas."

"Nope! If you want me to use your name, you have to use mine," Tom informed him, then ran forward and latched himself around Loki's waist, his helmet falling, forgotten, to the grass. "I've missed you! Where've you been?"

"Away," Loki replied, ruffling the boy's curls with a fond smile.

Two years ago, Tom had fallen out of a tree in the woods behind his family's house. He very likely would have broken his neck, but a man had appeared and caught him. That man, Loki, had never really left, appearing often when Tom was alone and playing with him, or telling him stories of other worlds. Tom always missed him when he was gone – sometimes a whole _month_ went by without Loki visiting – but Loki would never say where he'd been, or when he was leaving.

"Now, who is this you're dressed as?" Loki asked.

Tom widened his eyes and took two steps back, holding his arms out wide and turning on the spot. "You know!" he insisted.

Loki cocked his head to one side, considering. "Do I?" he asked.

Tom pushed out his lower lip in a most endearing pout. "You do."

"Ah. Is that one of your super heroes, then?" Loki asked.

Tom grinned and bounced back over to tug on Loki's hand. "Yeah! I'm Iron Man!" He turned away and held up one hand at a nearby lawn chair. "Pew-pew!"

The lawn chair burst into pieces.

Tom stared at the chair in horror for a long moment before looking back at Loki. "Mum is going to _kill_ me," he breathed.

"You shouldn't be practising your weapons on defenceless lawn chairs, anyway," Loki said, clearly amused.

Tom shoved his fists on his hips like his mum always did and looked down his nose at the man. "Put it back like it was, Lo-Lo. You have to remember the rules."

There weren't, actually, any rules. Other than the unspoken rule that no one would ever see Loki – everyone thought he was Tom's imaginary friend, and he was okay with that, even if he _was_ getting a bit too old for imaginary friends. But Tom liked to make rules up on the spot, just because he could. And because Loki usually listened when he invoked the mythical rules.

Loki sighed and waved a hand. "Fine, fine."

Tom looked over his shoulder to make sure the chair was back, then rolled his eyes because it was _green_. His mother had bought _blue_ chairs, and she'd notice in a heartbeat that this one was different. "I always get in trouble," Tom complained to himself before shaking his head and grabbing Loki's hand again. "Lo-Lo! I want to _fly_!"

"And what makes you believe I could help you there?" Loki wondered.

"Because you're super tall and super strong and you can lift me over your head like Dad and I'll go 'vrrrrr' and you can carry me through the air and I'll be _flying_! Just like Iron Man!"

Loki chuckled and leaned down to lift the boy. "The things I do for you."

"You love me!" Tom called down before starting his 'vrrrr'ing and 'pew-pew'ing a few more trees, which didn't blow up.

Loki smiled and did a little spin that had the boy laughing loudly. "I suppose I must," he said quietly.


	8. Shopping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter Warnings:** Loki's a little shit, Tom's a fucking saint (with horns)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I _hate_ shopping. I hate it in real life, and I hate writing about it. I curse this day, I curse it to the depths of whatever version of hell it believes in. (And if it doesn't believe in any form of hell, I curse it to work retail for the rest of its miserable life.)  
>  Yeah, someone gave me sugar. How could you tell? XD
> 
> So much love and kneeling for MischiefRulesHere for letting me whine and inadvertently giving me an idea for this day.
> 
> For those of you in the States, happy Turkey Day, and please stay safe tomorrow if you've chosen – or are required – to brave the fucking lunatics.  
> Me? I'm staying in with the cats.  
> And, oh yeah. You know what I'm thankful for? These two boys and all of you. Have some turkey and chaos, on me. ;D

Tom really should have known better than to take Loki out shopping while he was in a mood. Thor had visited that morning, trying to get Loki to come home, which _always_ failed. It wasn't that Loki wouldn't be _welcome_ – he'd already served his punishment for the actions of the human films, and Odin didn't care enough about the mischief he'd been up to since then to warrant further punishment – he just didn't want to go, and Thor always approached the matter from _entirely_ the wrong angle. If Tom didn't know any better, he'd think Thor didn't know his brother at all, but he was pretty sure that Thor was just incapable of getting his mind around the fact that cajoling wouldn't make Loki budge. (At least he'd stopped threatening Loki, after they destroyed two cafés and Tom had got between the two, chancing a broken neck, and screamed at Thor until he backed off.)

But, back to the matter at hand; they'd needed groceries, and Loki's mood didn't really stop that from being the truth. Tom would occasionally make short runs by the shops by himself, but for an undertaking of this magnitude, he needed Loki. Both for his strength, and because he got picky about the weirdest things, and what he was picky about changed every week or so. (Tom had learned to live with that, as he'd learned to live with all the odd little quirks that Loki seemed to manifest when he wanted to make life difficult for someone. Like that one time the couple living in the flat above them decided to take up line dancing and Loki developed a sudden need to listen to heavy metal music at top volume during all hours, or the time one of Tom's co-stars brought his dog on set and Loki developed a deathly allergy, which just happened to affect his magic as well as his sinuses.

If Tom had to say one thing about life with Loki, it was that at least it was never boring. And the sex was fantastic.)

Tom shook himself out of his thoughts in time to dodge an overbalanced stack of cans as it toppled to the floor. A couple of the cans burst upon impact and tomato chunks oozed out across the floor. "Really?" he asked the scowling god at his side.

Loki huffed and turned his irritation on the pasta options. For the past two weeks, Loki had insisted on the tri-coloured pasta, and for almost two months before that, he'd refused to allow anything but angel hair into the flat. Tom was actually kind of interested to see what he'd pick this time. "They don't have the wheels," Loki finally announced and raised his arm to do something to the shelf.

"Bottom right!" Tom called hurriedly, wincing as he heard some shop assistants finally reaching the mess of cans and tomatoes fallen from the end cap.

Loki looked down and stared at the wheel-shaped pasta for a long moment before looking up at Tom in a way that screamed, 'DANGER'. "I don't like that brand."

Tom closed his eyes and gave a quick prayer for patience. "If you want wheels, those are it. Either get them, or pick a different shape. Do _not_ make another mess on this aisle or, so help me, you're sleeping on the couch for a week."

"Liar," Loki returned, but he grabbed the wheels and put them in the cart without taking it out on the rest of the shelves.

They kept on, Loki knocking over more than enough displays, or shelves on the aisle they'd just left randomly coming unlatched. Tom just let him do it, only telling Loki to stop if there was an attendant in sight or the objects he was about to knock over would end up getting someone hurt, like the glass jars of pasta sauce he'd given the evil eye.

The thing that most people hadn't learned for dealing with Loki, was that if you yelled at him or threatened him, his behaviour would only get worse and someone would get hurt, and if you egged him on, he would eventually set something on fire. Tom had learned that if he wanted to keep the property damage to a minimum, he had to calmly direct Loki's ire at the less dangerous pranks and _calmly_ warn him away from things that would almost surely see someone hurt. Threatening punishments that didn't actually hurt him – withholding sex or whatever meal he most wanted for supper that night – were okay, but only if he didn't overuse them.

It was a good thing Tom was as patient as he was, because he shuddered to think how life would be if he and Loki were always butting heads.

By the time they reached the check-out lanes, Loki was much more pleasant, having worked off most of his irritation during the rampant destruction. Tom almost felt bad for the shop assistants, but, then, it could have been worse. And he'd rather it was left for someone else to clean up than having to replace all the dining rooms chairs or the television again.

They were just walking out the doors when something exploded near the back of the shop and the sprinklers went off.

"That was _not_ me," Loki insisted with the most honest expression Tom had ever seen on his face.

He still didn't believe him for a second.

"Next time your brother comes to town, just tie him up, gag him, and toss him into the nearest skip," Tom suggested with a sigh.

Loki blinked. "Why did I never think of that?"

Tom just shook his head and started home, Loki falling in behind him with a disturbing smile.


	9. Hanging Out With Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter Warnings:** Loki is a little shit, minor fluff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was like, 'Friends? What friends?! Loki doesn't have any friends! Oh, what, _Tom's_ friends? This is going to go _so_ poorly.'  
>  Ended up going with the _Avengers_ cast because I didn't want to make up names for any friends Tom might have from before his sudden shoot to stardom. (I'm like that.)
> 
> Sorry this took so long. There was a food coma to contend with. Also, I needed to run down to the post office and get stamps. And play mediator between mine and my sister's cats, who are becoming reacquainted after four years apart. It's been...fun... ^.^"

Thomas' mobile went off next to Loki and he glanced away from his book to check it. A message from Evans, with the words, _'Avengers Assemble!'_ and an address for one of the pubs down town. "Evans wants to go singing and drinking again," he called.

The bathroom door popped open just enough for Thomas' voice to carry without echoing obnoxiously. "Did he give a time?"

Loki sighed and unlocked the phone to get to the actual message and check. "No."

"How far away is the place?"

"How should I know?" Loki returned, dropping the phone back on the cushion next to him.

"Loki."

"Ten minutes walk," Loki answered, rolling his eyes. There wasn't much to do while Thomas was on set or in the gym all day, so he'd explored the town a fair bit. And Thomas knew it, liked to use Loki's knowledge to his benefit as often as possible.

"So I've got another five minutes," Thomas decided and the bathroom door closed again.

Loki returned to his book, scowling all the while for reasons he really didn't want to sort through.

Thomas emerged from the bathroom after another couple minutes, toilet running behind him and hair shining with water from his having run his hands through it. He paused next to Loki to gather his mobile and ran a damp hand through the god's hair, which Loki most certainly did _not_ lean into. "You can come with, you know."

"I have no interest in coming along to one of your–"

"Loki," Thomas interrupted, amused and irritatingly patient. Sometimes, Loki really hated him. "You could wow them all with your amazing voice."

Loki looked up at the human disbelievingly. "And when have _you_ heard me _sing_?"

Thomas shrugged, lips curled with a fond smile. "I haven't," he admitted, "but I know what your voice sounds like the rest of the time. I can make a good guess."

"I can't carry a tune," Loki said, turning back to his book.

"Liar."

Loki shot the human a scowl that had no heart in it; he would always enjoy bantering with him, loving the way Thomas would call him out about probable lies without taking offence to them, no matter how personal they were. Thomas was everything Loki had never had on Asgard, and he would gladly give his life to have met the human sooner. "And what has you doubting my word this time?"

"I always doubt your word," Thomas returned, the hand that had been threading through Loki's hair sliding around to cup his cheek. "Please?"

Loki held firm for a breath, then sighed. "Very well."

Thomas leaned over and kissed him in thanks, pulling away before Loki could deepen it and make them late. "I love you," the human murmured, rubbing his thumb against Loki's cheekbone.

"Noted," Loki returned drily.

Thomas smiled and stepped back so Loki could rise, taking no offence in Loki's lack of returned verbal affection. The human had never demanded Loki return the sentiment, had never seemed to mind that Loki stuttered over so simple a phrase, and Loki loved him all the more for it. It was a skill he wished Thor would develop, if only to ease their shattered relationship, rather than forcing it, as he was wont to do.

The walk to the pub Evans had chosen was calming, but Loki didn't expect it to last. There was a very good reason why he never joined Thomas when he went out, and it was proven as soon as they walked over to the table the other actors had staked out and everyone fell very, very silent.

Thomas widened his eyes pleadingly. "Hey, everyone. I brought Loki along because he looked sad."

There was a beat of awkward silence, then Downey cleared his throat. "More the merrier, right?"

"Indeed," Loki purred, smirking just enough to make normal people worry.

Evans and Renner both looked a little uncomfortable, but Hemsworth rolled his eyes, Downey grinned, Johansson motioned between her eyes and him, and the rest of the group apparently decided it was in their best interests to just ignore him. (Which it probably was, because Loki always caused the most trouble when he had an audience. Which was a large part of why he never wanted to go out with Thomas; he would cause trouble, Thomas would give him the pitiful eyes, and then Loki would feel bad. And Loki _hated_ feeling bad about mischief. One day, he would discover how the human had developed such power over him and be rid of it. Probably.)

Drink orders were placed and everyone settled in to chat about whatever came to mind while the karaoke equipment was set up by the pub staff. Loki amused himself by altering the molecules in the beer Thomas had bought him, giving it a higher alcohol content – Midgardian alcoholic beverages were pathetically weak – then turned his attention to making other's drinks bubble or change colour. They all seemed to know who was playing with their drinks, but Downey was the only one who commented on it, asking Loki if he could turn his Sprite red and gold and keep the colours from mixing. Which Loki did, if only because it was slightly more complicated than the tricks he had been performing.

When the karaoke was ready, they all quickly added their names to the list. Loki knew Thomas had added both of their names to the list, but he just sneered at the human and pretended he didn't enjoy it when Thomas slid his chair closer and curled one arm around Loki's waist in apology.

The group were quite familiar with one another, and most of them knew what songs the others would pick, which developed into plenty of heckling of the next person on the list, trying to get them to change their minds about the song they had picked. Loki wasn't sure what song Thomas had picked for him – something the human listened to often, no doubt, and was certain Loki would know – but he knew exactly which song the human had picked for himself, and he wasn't the only one.

"Come on, Tom. You _always_ pick _It's Friday I'm in Love_ ," Ruffalo tried while Hemsworth was up butchering some song that Loki had never heard before in his life and which the Australian had apparently picked at random, from what Thomas had said.

"And it's not Friday," Downey helpfully pointed out, holding out his newest glass of Sprite for Loki to change the colour of.

"It's an excellent song," Thomas returned, turning his nose up at all of them and pretending to be a snooty, well-educated idiot. (Which he was, but he usually pretended to be an average idiot with a propensity towards being overly polite.)

Hemsworth finished, then, and hopped down with a huge grin at the half-cheers, half-boos he was getting from the audience. He clapped Thomas on the back as Loki's lover passed him on his way to the stage, then slid into the abandoned seat and stole Loki's beer.

"You will regret that," Loki warned him idly before his brother's mirror could take a sip.

Hemsworth took a sniff of the contents, then hurriedly set it back down at Loki's elbow. "Wow, yeah. What did you do, turn this entirely into alcohol?"

Loki glanced down at his glass and shrugged. "About seventy percent, really," he allowed before looking back at where the opening cords of Thomas' favourite song were playing.

Thomas hummed along to the opening, then turned his eyes on Loki as he sang. And it was really kind of sickeningly sweet; Loki couldn't decide if he'd rather hit the human, or drag him home and fuck him into the mattress. (Possibly both.)

And then it was Loki's turn and he scowled when Hemsworth and Downey both reached out to shove him from his chair, grinning in a way that would have been more than enough reason for Loki to smite them, had Thomas not reached him at that moment and kissed his cheek. "Go on," the human said, smiling in a far less violence-inducing manner.

Loki huffed and stalked up to the stage, side-tracking only long enough to see what song Thomas had put him down for. He raised an eyebrow at the choice – _Flawed Design_ , by Stabilo – because it wasn't a song Thomas had, but it was one Loki had discovered and enjoyed when he was alone. He would have to discover how Thomas had found out about it later. And make him buy an actual copy of the song, since there was no reason _not_ to have it if Thomas knew about it.

The truth was, Loki could sing. He could actually sing quite well – had mastered the skill in his youth for the handful of spells that required one sing them to cast – but it was just one more thing that males of Asgard weren't meant to do, unless they were employed as bards, so it wasn't something he advertised. In fact, he hadn't sung anything before coming to Midgard in over two centuries, but it was a habit he'd picked back up – living with Thomas, who liked to sing along to everything, made it hard not to – over the past few months. Still, it wasn't something he did around other people, had _never_ done around other people, and he was honestly uncertain of their reactions.

At least he was fond of the song, which was more than he could say for some of the choices Thomas could have made.

When he finished, it was to overwhelming cheers, and he returned to their table quite smug. Hemsworth had been booted back to his original seat, so Loki slid back in next to Thomas, who smiled and kissed him, murmuring, "Liar."

"Occasionally," Loki agreed. "Buy me that song."

"So you can stop filling my YouTube queue with it?"

 _Ah._ "Would you rather a dozen videos of _It's Friday I'm in Love_?"

"I'm not _that_ bad."

"Bet you are," Downey cut in, grinning.

"It's a near thing," Loki agreed and most of the table laughed while Thomas grinned, embarrassed.

"Hey, Chris!" Ruffalo called as their quasi-leader returned from getting another round of drinks. "When's the next of these things?"

Evans shrugged. "Next karaoke night's Saturday, unless you wanted to try the bar two blocks over again?" All of the humans immediately shook their heads. "Saturday, then. Unless someone had something else planned?" He glanced at Renner.

"Not this weekend," Renner returned.

"Cool." Ruffalo pointed at Loki. "Make Tom pick a different song on Saturday. Write it down for him, if you have to."

"Do I get any say in this?" Thomas wondered, clearly amused.

" _No_ ," the other humans chorused.

"And if I don't care to come?" Loki wondered, sipping at his doctored beer.

"You're really going to make us suffer through _It's Friday I'm in Love_ on a Saturday?" Downey asked.

Loki flashed him a smirk.

"Okay, that was a dumb question," Downey admitted. "But, come _on_! It'll be _fun_!"

"Oh, God..." Thomas moaned.

Loki glanced at his lover, took in the half-amused, half-pleading glint in his eyes, then sniffed. "We'll see."

Thomas gifted him with an absolutely blinding smile; he knew Loki had meant 'yes'.


	10. With Animal Ears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter Warnings:** Crack, fluff, porn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've sort of been waiting for this day since day three. Hopefully it comes off as awesome as I want it to be. (Always an uncertain thing. ^.^")  
> And, yeah. I decided to write some smex. *flail* Merlin, it never ends well when I try my hand at porn. Don't look. *hides behind her cat*
> 
> Again, sorry about how late this is. Mum dragged me out to get some things at the shops, then she was puttering around behind me while I wrote. And, I mean, she's known I write gay porn since I was, like, sixteen, so it's not a big deal, but still. No one really wants their mum walking behind them and leaning over their shoulder to grab some cookies while they're writing sex. Seriously.

Tom jumped when something exploded in the kitchen. He didn't even give himself the chance to catch his breath, just ran from the bedroom and through the living and dining rooms to the entrance of the kitchen, where he stopped and _stared_.

The once-white worktops, cabinets, and floor now marked with black scorch marks and dusted with green and gold ash, but actual property damage was minimal – which was more than could be said for some of the magical hijinxes Loki got up to when Tom wasn't there. Loki, however, was standing in the middle of the mess, eyes wide with surprise and hands covering two black triangles peeking out of his hair.

 _Ears,_ Tom recognised before he cleared his throat and said, "Loki?"

The god immediately clapped his hands over the triangles, then winced and gently pulled his hands up and away. " _What_?" he snarled, the promise of pain laced through his voice.

The tone only gave Tom a moment's pause before he took a step into the kitchen. "Are you okay?"

"Am I–?" Loki left his new ears to hold his hands out towards Tom, as though intending to throttle him, and took three quick steps forward, until he was in range to do just that.

Tom ducked the grasping hands and made to card his fingers through the god's hair, an act he'd discovered early on had a calming effect and which he exploited fully. But there was an ear in the way and he blinked at it for a moment before carefully giving a scratch behind it, like one would with a cat. (Though the ears resembled a cat's, Tom thought they were a little more round than the average house cat's. Feline of some form, certainly, but he didn't know enough about them to know which one from the shape of the ears.)

Loki sort of froze, then relaxed and leaned into his touch far more obviously that Tom was used to. The god let out an odd sort of rumble, and it took Tom an embarrassing amount of time to realise that was as close to a purr as a humanoid throat could manage.

Tom switched to scratching behind the other ear and asked, "Do I want to know what happened?"

His voice broke whatever spell Loki had been under and he broke away, looking furious for his moment of weakness. " _Don't_ touch me," he snarled, backing away from Tom, who held his hands up in surrender. The anger gave way to confusion tinged with panic. "I don't– This shouldn't have happened. It's never happened _before_ –"

"Loki," Tom interrupted, keeping his voice gentle and unthreatening. "Hey. Are you hurt?"

Loki swallowed and shook his head.

"Can you fix it?"

Loki was calming down, the sense of violence fading. "Yes," he said, certain.

Tom smiled. "Can I come over there?"

Irritation flashed across Loki's face, and that was okay, that was normal; Tom knew he walked a fine line with the god, that if Loki didn't honestly care about him, Tom would be dead in a ditch for some of the liberties he took and how well he understood him. "No," Loki returned and turned to walk from the kitchen.

There was a bulge on the seat of Loki's trousers, like something curled uncomfortably in a small space. Tom pressed his hands to his mouth to keep himself from laughing; Loki had a _tail_!

-0-

Loki had vanished in the bedroom almost three hours ago, locking the door behind him. Tom had rolled his eyes and settled in to study his current script on the couch, used to Loki's mood swings and resigned to having to amuse himself without the laptop.

But three hours had passed, he kind of needed to relieve his bladder, and the only toilet in the flat was in the bedroom. They also needed to start thinking about dinner, and that would require cleaning up the kitchen, which Tom was not doing until he _knew_ it was safe to touch the left over magic ash. (Not magic 'dust', because that brought to mind 'fairy dust', and while the correlation made Tom laugh, Loki had been so very _not_ amused.)

"Loki," Tom called through the door. "You need to let me in."

There was a very long silence.

"Either you let me in, or I let myself in," Tom added, turning to find the tiny screwdriver he kept around that could make it through the hole in the door knob and let him turn the lock. (When Loki had moved in, he'd bought all new door knobs just so he knew he'd always have a way into any room, since Loki certainly did. It was a way to even the playing field, as it were, and Loki had been more amused by the change than anything else, so the knobs were changed and Loki never moved Tom's screwdriver from its drawer.)

The door unlatched and creaked open a couple centimetres.

Tom cocked his head to one side, then pushed the door open the rest of the way. The bedroom was completely dark, the black-out curtains Tom insisted on drawn tight. Even the nightlight Loki usually kept on his side was dark, and Tom felt a spike of concern, because he _knew_ Loki hated the dark. "Can I turn on the light?" he asked, careful to keep his voice even.

Silence was his only answer.

Tom pressed his lips together tightly and reached for the light switch. As soon as he touched the plastic cover, however, a cool hand covered his, and Tom could just make out the god in the light from the rest of the flat; Loki had discarded his shirt and his trousers hung unusually low on his hips. Something dark caught flickered behind him and Tom's eyes immediately tracked upward, looking for– The feline ears were still peeking out of the god's long hair, held nearly flat so Tom had missed them during a quick glance. "Loki?" he asked, reaching out with his free hand to touch the god's chest.

Loki stepped back and away, his hand leaving Tom's over the light switch. "What did you need?" he asked, his voice oddly raspy.

Tom swallowed the hurt that bubbled up at the rejection, reminding himself to not let it get to him; sometimes Loki didn't want to be touched, not even casually, and while Tom knew it had nothing to do with him, it still bothered him every time. "I came– I need to use the loo," he managed, keeping his voice even only thanks to years of acting training. "And the kitchen needs to be cleaned, if you can leave the bedroom long enough?" Okay, so maybe he couldn't control his voice _that_ well.

"Be my guest," Loki replied, and Tom felt – more than saw – him move out of his path to the bathroom door.

Tom stalked past him and into the bathroom. He had half a mind to flip on the light before closing the door, just to be difficult, but he didn't; no matter how irritated he was, it was always better than Loki being ticked off because of something Tom had done. And, well, Tom could never take his anger out on Loki, no matter how angry he was with him.

When Tom emerged from the bathroom, the bedroom door had been closed and the room was completely dark. He tamped down on an irrational burst of fear and called, "Loki?"

Again, Tom felt the god move, felt him stop directly in front of him, close enough to touch without stretching his arm.

Tom swallowed and kept his hands to himself. "Talk to me," he ordered.

There was a beat of silence, then Loki spoke, voice still oddly raspy: "I have been unable to end the magic."

"I noticed."

"The light...my eyes are sensitive to it," Loki admitted.

Tom knew how much the god hated to admit any weakness, and was more glad than ever that he hadn't just flipped the lights on when stepping into the bathroom. "Is the transformation still occurring?" he asked, because that was a legitimate concern. And it might explain why Loki wouldn't let him touch him; if he was covered in fur, he wouldn't want Tom to find out.

"...no," Loki replied.

"Loki."

"Perhaps my eyes are more sensitive than they were at first, but there have been no other...changes," Loki allowed. Then, before Tom could come up with another question, Loki got out in a rush, "I need your help."

Tom raised both eyebrows at the dark space he knew Loki occupied. His eyes were starting to adjust to the darkness, at last, and he could almost see Loki's outline in the light from under the bedroom door. "In what way?" he asked, because he had learned the hard way to never agree with Loki before getting all the facts. Assuming the facts were at least half truth.

"I believe this requires physical intimacy," Loki said, raspy voice almost cryptic, for all that his meaning was clear.

"Since when have _you_ been embarrassed about asking for sex?" Tom demanded. Well, okay. Loki rarely _asked_ for sex, he usually just _demanded_ it and Tom was more than willing to go along without complaint. (Except for one time, but they'd been in the theatre toilets, just before curtain, and Tom did have _some_ standards that he refused to let Loki corrupt.)

"This requires for you to take me," Loki explained.

 _Oh._ Well, that explained it. Loki had always been the one 'pitching', as it were, and Tom hadn't cared enough to fight him for it, figured it was some sort of Asgardian thing that he was better off not psychoanalysing, for his own sanity.

Tom went through a couple of different responses to that, then settled on, "Can I touch you?"

Like that had been the cue Loki had been waiting for, the god fell against him, burying his face in the crook of Tom's neck. Tom wrapped his arms around Loki, hugging him close and offering what comfort he could, because clearly Loki needed it.

Loki's tail curled against Tom's arms and he reached out one hand to stroke along it. It twitched out of his grasp and Loki tensed in his arms. "Don't," the god warned as Tom's hand slid down his spine.

Tom had no interest in listening. He knew that Loki reacted like a cat to having his ears scratched, so how would he react to having the base of his tail scratched? Because he was pretty sure that was kind of an erogenous zone on a cat. Or something like that.

Loki let out a sort of helpless groan and pressed tighter against Tom's front. "Hate you," he muttered against Tom's neck.

"Liar," Tom replied, running his other hand up Loki's back and through his hair. He couldn't get to Loki's ears from this angle, but he could run his fingers through the ends of the god's hair just fine.

Loki's hands pushed under Tom's shirt, running across his back with far more care than Tom was used to receiving from him. "Please?" he whispered, knowing that word would always make Tom do exactly what Loki wanted him to do.

"I kind of like the tail and ears," Tom commented and he removed his hands from the god and pulled his shirt off.

As soon as Tom's neck was clear of the shirt, Loki leaned forward and bit him. Hard.

Tom winced. "Or not."

"I will have them gone," Loki growled – actually _growled_ , like an angry dog or something – his hands undoing Tom's jeans with the movements of someone long practised. " _Now_."

"Okay, okay, hold on," Tom soothed, undoing Loki's trousers and letting them slide to the ground at his feet. "Are we going over to the bed, or–" Loki's hand wrapped around his cock, magic making his fingers slick with lube. "R-right."

Loki bodily positioned them both against a wall, then turned so his back was to Tom, his tail curling around the human's back and flexing as though trying to pull him closer. " _Now_ ," Loki ordered again.

"I'm not going to just _take_ you," Tom insisted. "I mean, I know you're not always big on preparation, but–"

Loki reached back and grabbed the back of Tom's neck, pulling his head forward, over Loki's shoulder, to hiss into his ear, "If you don't stop talking and fuck me of your own will, I will take control of your body and do it for you."

Tom really wouldn't put it past the god. But, still, "I'm not going to chance hurting you."

Loki's other hand grabbed Tom's hand and brought it to his anus, pressing one of Tom's fingers against the surprisingly loose muscle there. "You won't." He nipped at Tom's jaw and let go of his hand. "Thomas, _please_."

Tom let out a harsh breath and turned his head to catch Loki's lips as he positioned himself against the god's entrance and pushed smoothly in, meeting no resistance. Loki's tail undulated against his side and back as he bottomed out, the god's hand at the back of his neck tightening and fingernails biting into his flesh.

Loki gave him barely two breaths for them both to adjust, then he bucked his hips, hissing, " _Thomas_ ," against Tom's lips.

Tom obediently pulled out, then pushed back in. It took him another two careful fucks before Loki keened, arching against him, and he aimed to hit that spot again, one hand reaching around from the grip he had on Loki's hips to take his cock in hand.

Loki whimpered at the touch, then let out a choked cry as Tom pressed against his prostate again, head thrown helplessly back against Tom's shoulder. It was the most vocal Tom had ever heard the god during sex, and he nipped along the exposed throat, pulling breathless gasps from Loki between the helpless whimpers and half-muffled cries that made it past his closed mouth.

"Come on," Tom breathed into Loki's ear, thumbing the head of his cock. "Let go, Loki. I've got you, let go."

Loki shook his head, his hair tickling Tom's shoulder and back at the motion.

"I love you," Tom got out on a gasp.

Loki let out a whine and went painfully taut against him, his cock releasing all over Tom's hand and the god's stomach.

Tom fucked him through it, coming himself as Loki relaxed back against him, the hand on the back of Tom's neck gentling and sliding up through his hair.

They remained standing against the wall as they both came down from their highs, Tom's legs shaking under their combined weight, but holding all the same. It took him a long moment to realise that the tail that had been twining against his side had vanished, and he murmured, "Did it work?"

Loki sighed and straightened, removing his weight from Tom. "It seems to have," he agreed, his voice back to normal.

When the god made to pull away, Tom grabbed him around the waist and pulled them flush, chest-to-chest, uncaring about the cum drying against Loki's stomach. With his clean hand, Tom reached up and cupped Loki's cheek. "I love you," he said, eyes searching the darkness for the two green eyes he knew were watching him, though he couldn't see them.

Loki's hands curled against Tom's waist, a spark of green magic lighting them both up for the brief moment it took to clean his release from both of them. "I'm aware," the god muttered.

Tom smiled and kissed him.

Loki waited until Tom freed his mouth before adding, "You're not having me again."

Tom's smile widened and he stepped away, feeling along the floor with his feet for their discarded clothing. "Until the next time you mess up a spell."

Loki huffed. "You will be waiting a _very_ long time for such."

Tom rather hoped not.


	11. Wearing Kigurumis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter Warnings:** Crack, Loki's a little shit, Tom's an angel (with horns), They deserve each other

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The problem of doing a prompt challenge written for Japanese fandoms, is that I occasionally come across terms that I don't understand. (Other than occasionally watching _Fullmetal Alchemist_ and _Digimon_ , I have very little to do with the anime circuit.) I've had to look up 'kigurumi' multiple times, because it just wouldn't stick in my brain.  
> For those wondering, 'kigurumi' is the word for those animal costumes people wear. The Wikipedia article on it seemed to lean more towards the versions of such costumes as they appear in amusement parks, but there are also animal costume-style pyjamas which are called the same thing. I'm going with the pyjamas, if only for the simplicity of making such fit into this world.  
> Also, MischiefRulesHere requested the colour. This may or may not have been your best idea, luv.
> 
> This one is...short. Pathetically so. I just couldn't find a good plot involving pyjamas. (Other than more smut, but I did that last time and...no. I suck at smut. Shut up.  
> Although, on the topic of smut... Lesbian smut on day 14, y/y? XD)

"I'm cold," Thomas announced out of nowhere.

Loki glanced up at the human from the spellbook he was making notes in. "Do I need to light you a fire?" he asked in a voice so sweet it was actually kind of threatening.

Thomas took a quick look around the room, as though to ensure a fireplace hadn't suddenly appeared, then hurriedly shook his head. "Ah, no. No, not necessary. Thanks."

Loki sniffed and returned to his book.

Thomas was quiet for another two minutes or so before saying, "If you'd let me turn on the heat–"

" _No_ ," Loki snarled, glaring at the human. The heater made it _too_ hot in the flat, and perhaps Thomas' mortal sense of smell couldn't discern a difference, but the smell the thing put out both made Loki nauseous, and gave him an immediate migraine. And both he and Thomas agreed that Loki plus a migraine equalled zero fun for all. (Their landlord and neighbours had also been unamused, though at least Loki's magic had kept any but himself and Thomas from finding out about the demolished wall. The paint job had been a bit beyond his skills at the time, however.)

Thomas let out a sigh and stood from the couch. "Would you make me some tea?"

Loki narrowed his eyes. "And what will _you_ be doing?"

"Changing into something warmer," Thomas replied, motioning to his jeans and jumper.

Loki couldn't think of anything Thomas owned that was warmer than what the human was already wearing, other than his bulky coat, but it _was_ his fault the flat was always so cold. "Fine," he bit out, never one to concede with grace.

"Thank you," Thomas said before disappearing into the bedroom.

Loki scowled and got up to make the requested tea. He could have used magic, but Thomas always complained about the taste, even when he couldn't _possibly_ have known Loki used his magic for the preparation. It was most vexing.

Once the water was finished heating and poured into Thomas' favourite mug, Loki made to bring it to the human, only to stop and stare in the middle of the living room, demanding, " _What_ , in the name of the Norns, is _that_ monstrosity?"

Thomas was covered in the most blindingly pink...costume – Loki couldn't think of a better name for it – that Loki had ever laid eyes on. It was, in fact, almost physically painful to look at. It had a hood – Thomas had pulled it up, over his pale hair – which appeared to have a face on it, and the...stomach – it was clearly meant to be some form of animal, so, stomach – was a shade of orange just as blinding as the pink.

Thomas smiled at him in a way that should have looked innocent, but too much exposure to the God of Lies and Mischief had turned slightly evil, and said, "Isn't it cute? A fan sent it to me. It's really quite warm."

"Acid dripping into my eyes is sounding less and less like a punishment," Loki deadpanned.

Thomas laughed and held out a hand for the mug Loki was still holding. "Heat, or this. Your choice."

Loki moved just close enough to hand the mug over if Thomas leaned forward, which he did. "I'm a fan of mutual torture," he decided, stepping back away.

Thomas held up one arm and considered it for a moment, not even squinting at the blinding colour. "I dunno. I kind of like it."

Loki turned away and started back towards his spellbook. "There has to be a spell to disable the ability to see specific colours," he muttered.

Thomas' laughter was only a little mocking.


	12. Making Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter Warnings:** mention of canon-torture, blood-play, Loki's a little shit, Tom's an angel (with horns)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this ficlet is something of a sequel to _Day Five: Kissing_.

Not quite a month after he'd found and helped Loki, Tom started seeing the god out of the corner of his eyes. He would always double-take and look back at where he'd seen the dark figure, but he was never there. Tom, honestly, wasn't sure if his mind was playing tricks on him, or if the god in question was truly there and just didn't want to be noticed.

Whichever it was, his friends teased him about developing a tick due to his fame – not entirely inaccurate, given his newfound paranoia involving cameras, both on set and off – and more than a couple people of his acquaintance made inquiries as to his health. He laughed at the teasing, brushed off the inquiries, and tried not to react to sightings of Loki.

It was almost five months since Loki before he met the god again.

His morning run – the fresh air cold with the promise of approaching winter – was interrupted by a young woman stumbling and falling on an adjacent path. Tom didn't really pause to debate with himself, he just jogged on over and leaned down next to her, offering a hand. "Alright?" he asked.

The young woman batted her eyes at him as she took the offered hand. "More than," she promised, glancing towards some bushes set unusually close to the path.

And, oh, Tom _really_ hoped–

A man popped up with a camera, smiling widely. "Perfect shot of a _perfect_ gentleman!"

Tom rather thought that popular acronym – fml – applied to him in that moment. He tried to let go of the young woman's hand, but she had his hand in a vice.

"So, Tom," the young woman said, turning to him with a huge smile, "would you be willing to answer a few questions for us on this fine morning?"

Tom closed his eyes against the urge to curse at both of them and make a – hopefully – quick escape.

"No," said a silky voice from just behind Tom's left shoulder, "he would not."

Tom jerked his head around to look, and there – wearing a very nice green jumper over pressed black slacks and a scarf that Tom was more than a little envious of – was Loki, green eyes burning with violence.

Both of Tom's aggressors – he really couldn't think of a better word for them, and was rather disinclined towards niceties in his own head – let out startled sounds at the god's sudden appearance. The young woman rallied quickly enough, stepping fearlessly in front of Tom, closer to Loki. "And you are?" she asked.

Loki's lips curled with a smile that was frankly _terrifying_ , the scars around his lips making it all the worse, and he reached forward in a move almost too quick to see to wrap one hand around the woman's throat. "Your death, if you do not leave immediately."

The woman's eyes went wide with terror. And Tom grabbed Loki's wrist with his free hand – the young woman was _still_ gripping his one hand – quietly murmuring, "Loki, stop."

The god turned his violent gaze on Tom. "Do not think, Hiddleston, that you have any pow–"

"You can't kill everyone who pisses you off. The world doesn't work that way," Tom hurried to say, pleading with his eyes.

Loki's eyes slid to where the woman was still gripping Tom's hand, squeezing tighter than comfortable in her fear. "I would destroy any that think to touch what is _mine_ ," he snarled and the woman let go of Tom's hand like it had burned her.

"You have absolutely _zero_ claim on me," Tom returned, unable to keep his anger at the presumption from his voice. "Let her go. _Now_."

Loki let the woman go, and she stumbled back and away from both of them, but Tom was only vaguely aware of her movements as the god turned to him, hand going for his throat. But Loki's hand didn't settle around Tom's throat. Rather, it slid around one side and up, strong fingers tangling in his short hair, almost gentle, in spite of the lingering violence in Loki's gaze. "Oh, little mortal, but I _do_ ," he whispered, voice as gentle as his hand in Tom's hair. "You gave yourself to me."

"I did nothing of the sort," Tom insisted. Well, okay, they'd shared a kiss, but that hardly made him _Loki's_. Did it?

"You are not so a fool as to think my blood on your lips meant nothing," Loki returned. The violence in his eyes was easing, being replaced with an inexplicable fondness that made Tom's mouth go dry.

Tom licked his lips and Loki's eyes flickered to the motion, a flash of hunger cutting across the fondness in his eyes for a second. "Limited warranty," Tom managed, wondering what he was doing. "It expired two months ago."

Loki's mouth curled with a smile, amused and so fond. "Indeed?" he murmured and leaned forward that last few centimetres to lock his lips with Tom's.

Tom didn't fight him, brought a hand up to cup Loki's cheek in much the way he had five months ago, when the god flinched whenever Tom touched him.

Loki's teeth moved behind closed lips for a moment, then he opened his mouth and sucked Tom's bottom lip between his, catching it with his teeth gently. Some liquid – Tom thought it was saliva, at first – spilled from Loki's mouth, into Tom's, and the chilled iron taste of Loki's blood bloomed across his tongue. Tom hadn't realised how much he'd wanted to taste it again until that moment and his free hand caught in Loki's jumper as his tongue chased after the blood, pressing deep into Loki's mouth when it opened willingly for him.

A squeak of surprise reminded them of their audience and the still rolling camera. "Shit," Tom breathed, because he would never live this sort of press down. Making out with a male in a public park? Who just so happened to look almost exactly like him? And who he played the part of on film?

Loki curled an arm around Tom's waist as he pulled his other hand from Tom's hair. Green sparkled at his fingertips and surrounded Tom's aggressors, their eyes wide with fear.

"Loki," Tom breathed, more than a little afraid that the god was going to kill them.

Loki's eyes cut to him briefly, blank behind the endless green, and his mouth twitched with a frown. "You would do well," he said to the two humans held by his magic, "to never approach what is mine again."

Both humans nodded vigorously, clearly hoping their agreement would mark their freedom.

Loki's hand twisted and their eyes went blank. "Good. Remember that," he suggested and they both nodded again, slower, like they no longer feared for their lives. "And you. Destroy that infernal creation before I do it for you," he added to the cameraman, who promptly tossed his camera on the ground and proceeded to jump on it until it was absolutely useless.

"Was that necessary?" Tom wondered, because it had been a _good_ camera.

"I would see something destroyed for their crimes," Loki replied evenly as the green glow vanished from both humans and his hand. "Their lives, or a useless object that can be easily replaced. Your choice."

"When you put it that way..."

Loki's hand curled around behind Tom's neck again, tangling comfortably in his hair. "Now," he murmured, voice gone low and just a little husky, "where were we?"

"In public," Tom replied, already leaning forward to kiss the god again.

He was vaguely aware of a change in scenery, then their mouths tangled, Loki driving his tongue into Tom's mouth and easily subduing him before Tom even thought to fight back. The god's hand around his waist snuck down and squeezed Tom's arse, which caused him to buck forward with a startled gasp, knocking their mouths apart.

"You are _mine_ ," Loki growled before biting Tom's lip hard enough to break the skin, then swiping his tongue over the welling blood.

"God, yes," Tom gasped in response before locking their mouths together again, chasing the taste of his own blood mingled with Loki's. And, maybe, he didn't really mind being claimed so much after all.


	13. Eating Ice Cream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter Warnings:** Minor crack, Loki's a little shit, Tom is an angel (with horns), allusions to past abuse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As anyone who's read my Shattered Glass series will know, I have a bit of a headcannon about Loki and ice cream.

"It's too hot," Loki complained as he dropped onto the couch next to Thomas and curled up against him. Then he quickly pulled away, because the idiot mortal was a fucking _furnace_. "How are you still alive?"

"Higher natural body temperature," Thomas replied absently, eyes trailing over the script he'd been reading over since it came in the post yesterday.

Loki grabbed for the umbrella that was leaning against the back of the couch after it had poured yesterday, bringing this heat wave with it. He'd folded the umbrella that morning, while Thomas was making breakfast, and never got around to putting it away. Now, he used it to poke the human on the other side of the couch. " _Hot_."

"I can't fix the air conditioner. Either use magic, or make do."

Loki had tired magic, had tried every spell to chill the air that he knew, but none of them had eased the muggy heat that permeated the flat, making his clothing stick to him until he'd removed it all, and _still_ remained miserable. He shoved Thomas harder with the umbrella. "How are you not miserable?"

Thomas sighed and finally looked away from the script, not even seeming to notice Loki's naked state. Not that Loki had much interest in sex with someone so hot at that moment. "I'm used to this heat. You want miserable, try spending part of the summer in New Mexico. _That_ was miserable. This is fine." He returned his attention to the script.

Loki stared at him for a long moment, then scowled and jabbed the umbrella into Thomas' right kidney.

Thomas yelped and grabbed the umbrella, ripping it from Loki's grasp only because he hadn't expected that reaction. Umbrella held tight in his left hand, script fallen in a heap on the floor, Thomas demanded, "What the bloody hell is your problem?!"

"I. Am. H–"

"I swear to God, Loki, if you say 'hot', I am turning on the heat."

Loki's mouth snapped shut, because he really wouldn't put it past the human. Sometimes, Thomas fooled even him into thinking he was _always_ nice, but the truth was that Thomas could actually manage vindictive bastard as well as Loki could, when given sufficient reason.

Thomas stared at him for a long moment, lips pressed together in an angry line. Finally, though, he let out a sigh and rubbed at his forehead. "Is your magic not _working_ , or–?"

"Magic cannot solve all," Loki allowed stiffly, always wary of saying too much of his own limitations. As much as he trusted Thomas – as much as he didn't have a _choice_ about trusting Thomas, because the human had known him better than Thor before they'd ever met – it was hard to break over two millennia of hard-learned caution.

Thomas sighed again and reached back to lean the umbrella against the back of the couch before standing. "Put some clothing on, let's go."

"So you _did_ notice," Loki muttered, only a little petulant.

A smile turned the corners of Thomas' lips and he leaned over to press a gentle kiss to Loki's shoulder before pulling back fast enough that his temperature didn't bother the god. "Darling, do you _honestly_ believe me capable of ignoring you in _any_ state of dress?"

Some of Loki's irritation cooled at that; Thomas had probably only spoken as much to please him, but that didn't lessen the pleasure Loki felt at the compliment. "You didn't even look," he said, never one to just let a slight go. Anyway, he rather enjoyed the compliments Thomas doled out when trying to soothe Loki.

"After you pulled away from me and complained about how hot I was?" Thomas returned, obviously amused. "I only wished to save us both some grief." He raked his gaze down and back up Loki's body, pupils dilated as they met the god's gaze again. "You just want me tortured," he insisted, voice just slightly rough.

Loki smirked and slid from the couch. "I do _so_ enjoy you tortured," he agreed.

Thomas swallowed and glanced up at the ceiling. "Clothing?" he requested.

"Why?"

"Because we're going out."

"For what purpose?" Loki demanded, narrowing his eyes.

"To cool off. Come on, Loki. Tru–" Thomas' mouth snapped shut on the rest of the word, eyes flickering down to look at Loki, a hint of fear deep within the blue depths.

For his part, Loki pressed his mouth into an unamused line and stalked past the human, back into the bedroom. When they had first joined into this relationship with one another, Loki had reacted poorly to the phrase 'trust me', and Thomas had landed in the A&E with three cracked ribs. Since then, Thomas made a point to never say such to Loki – would trip over even just the word 'trust' and most synonyms – and while a part of Loki still very much abhorred that phrase and never wanted to hear it again, a greater part of him wished that Thomas wasn't so afraid. Because Loki _did_ trust the human, as much as he was capable of trusting anyone.

Loki shook his head and snooped through Thomas' wardrobe for something loose. Gods regretted none of their actions, and he would spare no further concern for Thomas' fear. (Loki was quite practised at lying to himself.)

Dressed in a loose muscle shirt and some worn running shorts, Loki rejoined Thomas in the living room. The human had regained his usual good humour – if there was one thing Loki could say of his mortal counterpart, it was that Thomas never let anything bother him for long – and he grinned at Loki's choice in clothing. "You would look good in a paper bag," he declared before turning and leading the way to the door.

"Was that supposed to be a comment on my outfit?" Loki demanded, following the human without hesitation.

Thomas let out a startled laugh. "That– No, not really. It's a, well, a compliment. You make anything look good, even a paper bag. It's an Earth thing."

Loki snorted.

Out of the embrace of their building, a breeze eased the excessive heat and Loki let out a pleased hum. "I would stay out here," he decided.

"When we get back," Thomas countered. "Come on."

Loki huffed, but let the human lead him a couple blocks over to a shop that was bustling with customers. Thomas considered the full building for a moment, then glanced back at Loki. "I'll be right back, okay?"

Loki shrugged, considering the name of the shop and trying to remember if he'd heard of this so-called 'ice cream' before. It appeared quite popular, and he usually discovered all he could about popular items, so he might ruin them for others. But he did not recall this object, and nor did he recognise the objects humans exited the shop with. It did appear to be a food, which told him something of it.

Thomas returned just before Loki got so bored that he felt the need to amuse himself at the expense of a human, an 'ice cream' in each hand. He handed one to Loki, saying, "I got you a chocolate."

Loki already liked it; chocolate was something he'd discovered soon after meeting Thomas, and he'd quickly become addicted to it. Thomas, he knew, preferred the slightly more bitter 'dark' chocolate, but he enjoyed all forms of chocolate just fine. (Loki would never get over how many _kinds_ of chocolate there were. He had gone quite crazy, one day, trying them all. It had ended in a stomach ache and Thomas laughing so hard he cried, but Loki still thought it had been worth it.)

Loki followed Thomas' lead and took a lick of his ice cream. Cold exploded across his tongue, chasing away the oppressive heat for a moment, followed by the sweet taste of his favourite Midgardian food. He blinked at the ice cream for a moment, awed at the impossible magic of it, then took a proper bite. The cold burst across his mouth and slid down his throat, settling easily in his stomach and soothing the day's heat in a way that his magic had been wholly unable to do earlier.

It took him all of about a minute to empty the strange container, which he then held out to a bemused Thomas. "I demand more," he said.

Thomas blinked. "You can eat the cone."

Loki considered the container, decided that, yes, it appeared edible, then held it back out towards Thomas. "I don't want it. Give me your ice cream."

Thomas looked for a moment like he might fight him about that, but Loki narrowed his eyes and Thomas obediently traded his partially eaten ice cream for Loki's empty cone. "I guess you like it," he commented as he nibbled on the cone and Loki demolished what the human hadn't eaten.

Loki quickly finished the ice cream before replying, "I would have much more." He looked pointedly at the shop behind Thomas.

Thomas glanced over his shoulder, then sighed. "Oh, come on," he ordered, taking Loki's elbow and pulling him away from the shop.

Loki scowled. " _Thomas_ ," he warned.

"We'll get a tub. At the supermarket."

"They sell this at the supermarket?" Loki asked, surprised.

Thomas cut him an amused glance. "Yeah."

"Why have you never bought it?"

"I usually can't have ice cream. It's like having cake in the flat," he said, because he'd already explained the rules surrounding his various diets when Loki had tried to persuade him into buying a large chocolate cake one day. They'd ended up with a small thing of cupcakes, which Loki had eaten most of, then bemoaned the one that Thomas had taken before he could grab it too.

"You will always have ice cream in the flat," Loki ordered.

"Loki, you know the rul–"

"I didn't say you would be allowed to eat it."

Thomas let out a startled laugh and leaned comfortably against the god, which Loki allowed only because he was feeling pleasantly cold from the ice cream. "Yeah, okay," he agreed. Then, "Feeling better?"

"Yes."

"Good. You're quite cold to the touch. Interested in making up for teasing me earlier?"

Loki smirked at him. "I would rather eat more ice cream, I think."

"You can eat it off me."

Loki raised an eyebrow at that, took a moment to imagine it, then raised the other eyebrow and let out a low hum. "Oh, _yes_."

Thomas laughed.


	14. Genderswapped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter Warnings:** Lesbian sex, AU, genderbender, mention of sexual harassment, mention of torture and cold-blooded murder, Loki is a vengeful little shit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. I admit. I spent _way_ too much time thinking about this day. Seriously? Too much time.  
>  I also spent too much time trying to decide whether Loki would also, technically, be female, and whether 'Tom' would be an actress who played the part. In the end, I went with Loki being female as well, because a lot of what makes Tom so approachable to Loki, is that he has acted his part and gets him, and Tom can't play Loki if their genders don't match.  
> SO! Female!Tom's full name is Thomasina Willa Hiddleston (and, yes, she goes by Tom; there's a story there which I couldn't really fit in). Female!Loki is Loki Friggadottir.
> 
> I need you people to be sane and tell me **not** to write an entire AU fic with these two being female. Because it's tempting. And...no. People, tell me no.
> 
> Also, I've never written sex involving a woman before, let alone _two_. With any luck, it comes across okay. *gnaws bottom lip*

"Do I want to know?" Loki asked as Tom stormed through the door of their flat. The goddess was spread out comfortably on the couch, the news on for background noise as she sewed particularly fine rune work into Tom's favourite scarf.

Tom threw her jacket on the floor in a fit of irritation, then sighed and made herself pick it up. "Just...men," she replied.

Loki waved her work into whatever magical space she kept it on when she wasn't working on it – something about Thor's ability to _always_ step on and break her needles when she sat her work down – and sat up on the couch, looking over at where Tom was hanging up her jacket. "Shall I go out and stuff their cocks down their throats for you, dearest?" she simpered.

"You are a wholly disturbing individual," Tom deadpanned and Loki's lips curled with a cruel little smirk. "And, no. I doubt it would do much good, anyway." She sighed and rubbed at her forehead.

Loki's dark humour faded into a frown, concern only just visible in the slant of her eyebrows. "Thomasina, what has occurred?" she asked, voice gentler than she used with anyone else Tom had seen her converse with.

Tom waved a hand. "You don't car–"

"Thomasina."

Tom glanced up at the goddess, read the displeasure in the turn of her mouth and the restrained violence in her eyes; Loki didn't like not knowing things, Tom knew, _especially_ things about _her_. "It's–" Tom waved her hands around helplessly. "Both of my interviews today involved rather a number of questions that had nothing to do with my career."

Loki's expression darkened. "Did they harass you?" she asked, voice low and violent. It wouldn't be the first time that Tom was sexually harassed – it was rarely anything more than verbal harassment, but the nature of the questions and comments were very much sexual – by an interviewer who saw a very nice set of breasts and long legs, instead of a talented actress. Her agency had started sending a rather large bloke with a mean left hook with her when she met with interviewers, and the harassment had died down, but it didn't stop all the inappropriate questions or the hungry eyes watching her every move.

The absolute worst interview of Tom's career had been shortly after she and Loki had started dating. Loki had been terrifyingly furious when Tom had walked in a sobbing wreck, and had proceeded to drag the entire story out of Tom with a far gentler touch than Tom had thought her capable of at the time. With the story and a name, she'd vanished for three days to utterly ruin the man's life, then trapped him in a burning shed and stood just out of reach of the flames to listen to him scream as he burned alive.

Tom's agency had decided directly that she needed a bodyguard. If only to keep her insane girlfriend – who had left no evidence that she'd had any part in the man's death, though everyone who knew about her existence had no doubt as to her guilt – from killing any more overly interested men. (That was how they put it, at least. Loki said she was only serving out the justice of the gods on those deemed unfit for continued existence. Tom was just glad the harassment had lessened to a tolerable level, and that Loki had stopped at one murder.)

"Thomasina. Did. They. Harass. You?" Loki repeated, dragging Tom from her thoughts.

She quickly shook her head. "No. Well," she corrected as Loki's expression darkened at the lie, "a little. No more than usual. Just– It was the panties question again." A jealous ex-boyfriend had made some easy money shortly after Tom became a well-known face by telling a few reporters that she never wore panties. What he _hadn't_ said was that she wore boxers, instead, which led to everyone and their mother thinking she was a slut who ran around commando. Which she _wasn't_. But any time she tried to clarify the misunderstanding, she was ignored.

Loki's mouth tightened, but she'd come far too late to put an end to this particular rumour, as much as she and Tom wanted otherwise. (Though she had tracked down Tom's ex and made him regret his actions in the most creative and violent way she could without killing him. So far as Tom was aware, Loki didn't know she'd found out about that particular bit of vengeance on her behalf. And the longer she could pretend to be unaware, the longer she wouldn't have to tell Loki off for something she fully approved of.)

"It's fine," Tom insisted, pushing away from the wall she'd been leaning against and draping herself over the back of the couch, head hanging just in front of Loki's displeased visage. "Hi. I'm home," she offered with a smile.

Loki let out a long, irritated breath, then reached up and threaded her fingers through Tom's hair, cut short for a recent part and curling at the ends in a way the goddess insisted was 'disgustingly adorable'. "Welcome home," she allowed, the anger bleeding from her voice.

Tom smiled and pressed a quick kiss to Loki's lips, then asked, "What spells are you working into my scarf?"

Loki put on an exaggerated thoughtful look, tapping her bottom lip and staring up at the ceiling. "I don't think I'll tell you," she decided and, without warning, pulled Tom over the back of the couch and onto her lap, smirking when Tom shrieked.

Tom took a moment to get her bearings, then reached out and smacked Loki's arm where it was ensuring she remained on the couch, instead of falling to a heap on the floor. "You're the absolute _worst_."

"You love me," Loki returned, expression gentling to something fond with a hint of insecurity.

"Of course I do," Tom agreed, having long learned to not tease about this particular issue. Loki needed to be told she was loved – needed it to be said straight, rather than made into a joke – and Tom would never refuse her that, would never _want_ to refuse her that. "Why else would I put up with you forever stealing my favourite clothing?"

Loki let out a sharp laugh and ran the hand not bracing Tom down her back and over her arse, clothing vanishing at her touch, until Tom was left in only her bra and socks. "I'm most excellent at pleasing you," the goddess suggested as she cupped Tom's arse.

Tom rocked back against Loki's hand so she could shift her hands up and under Loki's shirt. "Mmm... That certainly helps. But I would _not_ put up with you if you were just good in bed."

"I have a lovely form," Loki murmured, her hand on Tom's arse tightening as the human's hands brushed teasingly up her stomach.

"You do," Tom agreed. "But I still wouldn't put up with you for something so slight." She caught a nipple between two fingers and twisted it as much as she could, given the angle, while her other hand ran over a particularly ticklish patch of skin just under Loki's other breast.

Loki let out a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a moan, one that Tom loved to wring from her at every opportunity. Her hand cupping Tom's arse slid between her cheeks and forward, until her long fingers were teasing along the inside of her lips, just above the opening of her vagina. When Tom bucked backwards, trying to get the fingers inside her, Loki tutted and used them to widen her lips, keeping away from where Tom wanted them.

Tom retaliated by twisting the nipple between her fingers harder, baring her teeth in a feral smile when Loki groaned. "Too much clothing," she commented, the hand not busy with a nipple turning to tug on the shirt Loki was still wearing.

"Yeah," Loki got out on a sigh, pulling her hand away from Tom's pussy and placing it against the human's waist. "Here, move your hands for a moment–"

Tom pouted a bit, but obediently freed her hands from under Loki's shirt. It wasn't the first time they'd had sex on the couch, and she was familiar enough with needing to situate that she braced one hand on the back of the couch and the other on Loki's shoulder, leaving the goddess to move her into a position that they could both be comfortable in, without Loki having to brace Tom to keep her on the couch.

As soon as Tom was steady above her, Loki motioned to vanish the rest of their clothing, including Tom's bra and socks. Then, with no warning, she slipped her hand between their bellies and into Tom, fingers stroking unerringly against her g-spot.

Tom jerked at the sudden spike of heat low in her belly, almost knocking her head against Loki's and arms shaking to hold her weight above the goddess. "You are completely unfair," she breathed against Loki's lips before pressing their mouths together.

Loki's lips curled with what Tom was nearly certain was a smug smirk, then parted and licked her tongue along Tom's lips. When Tom opened to her, Loki's tongue slipped in with an accompanying chill and the electric tingle of magic, making her teeth ache and her taste buds sing with delight all at once.

Loki's free hand dragged up Tom's back, sharp nails biting into her skin, and Tom arched against it with a gasp, mouth parting from Loki's at the motion. She caught a hint of the smirk curling Loki's mouth before the goddess's thumb circled her clit, nail slipping down between the bud and the skin surrounding it and causing a quick slice of pain.

It was all a bit too much and Tom gasped and buried her face against Loki's throat as she surrendered to the pleasures of her body, juices leaking out over Loki's hand as the goddess helped her through it, fingers and thumb pressing against her g-spot and clit in tandem, until Tom was whimpering from over stimulation, trying to pull away before Loki got it into her head to get her off a second time.

"Loki," Tom gasped, raising her head and meeting the mischievous green eyes. "Loki, _plea_ – Ah! Ow, ow." She closed her eyes against the flair of pain around her clit.

Loki removed her hand from Tom's crotch, slipping it around to press gently against her hip. "What's wrong?" she asked, a hint of concern in her voice.

"Your thumb nail," Tom explained, wincing at the burn of her own juices against an open cut. "I think you cut me."

Loki's other hand moved from Tom's back – the cool touch of a healing spell easing the burn from her nails following it – to rest against her other hip. "Sit up," she directed, her hands already pushing Tom up.

Tom blinked at the goddess, but followed her directions. Usually, Loki would just heal anything without any further comment, so what was going on?

Loki manoeuvred Tom until she was leaning back against the other end of the couch, then crouched down between Tom's legs, one hand gently parting the lips hiding her genitals so the goddess could get a look.

Tom suddenly knew _exactly_ what her lover was up to, and she reached her hands down to stop the goddess, stuttering, "Loki, n-no–"

Loki's other hand caught both of Tom's as her tongue slid over her clit, the healing spell icing over the burn of pain and causing heat to again gather low in her belly. Loki's tongue slithered down, into Tom's vagina, and licked around the walls while her thumb circled her clit again, nail kept carefully out of the way.

Tom moaned and flexed her hands in Loki's grasp, uncertain if she wanted to stop the goddess, or urge her on. Leave it to Loki to leave her mind whirling with uncertainty while her body happily followed the goddess over the edge of the nearest cliff.

Tom looked down, between her breasts and past where her wrists were held tight over her belly button, and found Loki watching her, pupils blown wide with lust and the green sparkling with mischief and apology and so much _love_...

And Tom lost the last vestiges of her control.

She often did, when it came to Loki.


	15. In a Different Clothing Style

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter Warnings:** BAMF!Tom, Loki's a little shit, Daddy problems, mention of canon-torture, Tom has all the Loki Feels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, different clothing style. Like, what? Asgardian?
> 
> Oh. _This_ is going to end well.
> 
> And, again (and forever, at this rate), sorry about the late posting. I had a cat constantly waking me up all night, demanding love, and have been kind of sleepy-pathetic all day as a result. The tea did finally kick in, sometime around 3pm, thankfully, but this was a ridiculously long response to the prompt and it took a bit to write, especially with cats and parental figures constantly pestering me.

"What is this?" Thomas called from the bedroom.

Loki glanced up from the magazine he'd been flipping through, more than a little uncertain and trying very hard to hide it. "It's Asgardian clothing," he said, managing to keep his voice uncaring.

Thomas stalked from the room, arms crossed over his chest and expression tight with displeasure. "I can see that. Why is it on the bed? Also, not your colours."

"Norns, no. I should _never_ be caught in so _ghastly_ a shade of bl–"

"Loki. Why. Is it on. The bed."

"You're to wear it, of course."

"Oh, of _course_ ," Thomas returned, a bite to his voice that made Loki want to rip out his throat so he might never hear such again. "How _stupid_ of me for not realising–"

"Are you being obstinate on purpose?" Loki bit out, clenching his hands on the magazine so hard a rip began to form along both covers.

Thomas narrowed his eyes, and then he simply _looked_. In that way that meant he was seeing everything that Loki really didn't want him to see, but which would keep him from saying the wrong thing and turning Loki homicidal. It was a skill that Loki both loved and hated, and, right now, he leaned more towards loving it.

Thomas' shoulders loosened from the hard hunch they'd drawn into and he leaned back against the doorframe. "Right. To where am I expected to wear Asgardian garb?"

"To Asgard, of course," Loki snapped, not bothering to reign in his temper. He hated this enough as it was, and Thomas attacking him over _clothing_ did not ease his temper.

"Last I checked, I was still mortal. Unless you've been slipping me golden apples or some such in my sleep?"

"And from where would I gather such?" Loki demanded.

"Magic," Thomas deadpanned, expression a study in seriousness.

And Loki, quite helplessly, burst out laughing. The mere _idea_ that one could just... _summon_ a golden apple by magic was _preposterous_.

"I'll file that under 'Things Magic Can't Actually Accomplish'," Thomas decided, rolling his eyes. "Loki, my love, why are you breaking laws to take me to Asgard?"

Loki silenced his amusement and looked down at the ruined magazine, very carefully closing it and setting it aside. "I have been summoned by Odin Allfather."

"Okay. Why am _I_ coming?"

"You would rather remain on this pathetic rock of a plane–" Loki snarled.

"Let me rephrase that!" Thomas called, cutting Loki off and giving him a helpless smile when he glared. "Why would you like me to come to Asgard?"

Loki glared at him for another long moment, making certain the idiot mortal was aware of just how much Loki hated being cut off – not that it ever made a difference; Thomas would do as Thomas pleased, which was just the sort of thing Loki should have loved, but he actually kind of hated – before he explained, "You had put forth interest some months ago in seeing Asgard. Does this no longer hold true?"

And there was that _look_ again, Thomas reading everything Loki wouldn't say. "I would love to go with you," he agreed with a faint smile, turning to return to the bedroom. "But, next time, why don't we try _asking_ , rather than just leaving clothing on the bed with no explanation?"

Loki pointed a finger at the disappearing human. "Don't think yourself to have any power to direct my actions, Hiddleston," he snarled.

"I'm glad you agree!" Thomas called back, all good cheer and likely grinning like a fool. The idiot.

(Loki really was fond of him.)

Loki picked the magazine back up and flicked some magic at it to repair the damage done, then opened it back up to finish the article he'd been reading. Something to do with innovations in the film industry. Loki could have honestly cared less, but it was the only reading material in the flat that he hadn't read yet. And reading it meant he wasn't as lost when Thomas invariably started talking about his occupation again, which made Loki feel accomplished and won him a bright smile from the human that made reading the dry material completely worth it.

(Loki was one hundred percent _not_ smitten, and anyone saying otherwise needed to be throttled.)

Thomas stepped from the bedroom at least, fiddling with the cuffs of the fine clothing with a faint frown. The outfit was very like the one Loki had preferred as Second Prince, before Thor's banishment had thrust him into the position of First Prince, then King; soft leather boots and trousers under a tunic that carried little armour or ornamentation. Where Loki had preferred black with hints of green, Thomas was dressed in a shade of grey humans called 'cool grey' with hints of azure, colours that did well with his lighter colouring and emphasised the blue of his eyes.

What little decoration Thomas' clothing had was the bright gold Loki had adopted during his stay with the Chitauri: some light armour along his upper arms that weighed little, but had enough protection magic woven into it to keep Thomas safe in spite of its small protection area; the curved chest piece that had long been Loki's mark, just as the six circles of silver were Thor's; and a set of bracers detailed with Loki's helmet.

"I feel like I should be heading for the _Thor_ set," Thomas commented, finally looking up from his cuffs and spreading his arms. "Sufficient?"

Loki hummed and rose from the couch, his clothing shimmering around him to don the far more war-like dress he'd adopted with the Chitauri. "I was correct in believing that the blue was the better choice," he said evenly.

Thomas glanced down at himself and let slip a faint smile before looking back up at Loki. "As ever, you have excellent taste."

Loki stepped forward and slipped his hand into the human's hair at the back of his head. "I do so enjoy your compliments."

"Oh, that wasn't a compliment, just an observation."

Loki chuckled and pressed a chaste kiss to Thomas' lips. "You do well to put me in a good mood."

Thomas' hands came to rest on Loki's waist, expression darkening with an emotion Loki wasn't sure he could read, or if he even wanted to. "I know," he said before smoothing his expression out into something more neutral than positive. "How are we getting there?"

"We shall teleport to the Bifröst site, and shall be brought to Asgard from there. Are you prepared?"

"If I say no, can we ignore Odin's summons?"

Loki smiled at that, though it was tinged with bitterness. "No."

"Bollocks. Well then, yes. I'm prepared."

Loki pressed another kiss to the human's lips, then transported them to the Bifröst site. "Do _not_ let go of me," he warned as the magic of the summoned bridge started around them.

Thomas' hands tightened in Loki's jacket and he pressed his face against the god's throat. Loki ensured he, too, had a secure grip on the human, then they were being dragged between Realms, the journey dizzying and less smooth with the jagged edges of the newly repaired bridge interrupting the energy flow.

Heimdall and Thor awaited them as they arrived, the Guardian looking as vaguely disapproving as ever, and Thor grinning widely. "Loki!" the First Prince called, starting forward. He slowed when Loki and Thomas parted, a frown turning his mouth. "Thomas," he offered, friendly enough. He and Thomas had met a few times on Midgard, and honestly seemed to like each other, but that didn't change the fact that mortals weren't allowed in Asgard.

"Hello, Thor," Thomas replied, holding on to Loki's arm for a moment as he shook his head. "I would very much appreciate never travelling the Bifröst again, I think."

"It was less trying before Thor _broke it_ ," Loki said, turning a cruel smile on his not-brother.

Thor opened his mouth to point out Loki's own part in those events, but Thomas snapped, "Both of you, shut up. You're sharing the fault like adults, or I'm borrowing Heimdall's sword and tanning both your hides."

Heimdall raised an eyebrow, something approving in his gaze, while Thor just sort of stared, stuck somewhere between amusement and disbelief that a _mortal_ would speak to him in such a way.

Loki, for his part, burst out laughing. He would very much like to see such an attempt, for while he was sure it would fail, it would at least be a most excellent story to tell at a later date.

Thor shook his head and focussed on Loki as the younger calmed himself. "Bro– Loki," he corrected at the scowl Loki turned on him, "for what reason have you brought Thomas? I had thought you cared enough for him to not bring him to his death." Ah, there was the disapproval and anger. One day, Thor would understand that Loki did nothing without thought for consequences, and he _always_ had a reason.

"He is my betrothed, of course," Loki informed his not-brother smoothly, as if he wasn't lying through his smile. A betrothal was one of the two reasons a mortal would be allowed, alive, in the Realm Eternal. As he doubted either he or Thomas would act well to say the human was his slave, a betrothal would have to suffice. He just hoped Thomas would play along without giving up the game. (The mortal insisted he couldn't lie to save his life – for all that he spent his days stepping into the shoes of others and had plenty-mastered the art of lying for his part as Loki – and Loki rather thought this was an excellent time to prove the falsity of that statement.)

Thor narrowed his eyes, disbelieving, and turned to Thomas. "Indeed?"

Thomas, to his credit, smiled and spread his arms a bit helplessly. "It was a surprise to everyone," he stated, not quite lying.

Oh, Loki's clever little mortal.

Thor glanced them both over. "And your symbol of binding?"

Thomas frowned for a moment, likely trying to sort out what that question meant, then shrugged and asked, "Ours is an unorthodox relationship; are you truly so surprised that we might choose to avoid the expected?"

"At least one of you is capable of truth," Thor decided, turning to lead the way from the chamber. "If you will follow?"

Thomas and Loki followed Thor to the horses held for them. "I had been unaware of Thomas' attendance," Thor said by way of apology for their being only two horses.

"Some of us are not so broad as to break a horse's back by riding double," Loki replied sweetly.

"Stop it," Thomas ordered, pushing Loki towards the darker of the two horses, knowing Loki's preference. "You're already on the couch for a month, don't push it."

Perhaps Loki should have warned Thomas that they would be acting as betrothed before they arrived.

The trip along the bridge was filled with Thomas and Thor catching up, having not spoken in nearly four months. Thor wished to ask of Loki – Loki always refused to speak of himself when asked, but Thomas had no such compunctions, and when Loki tried to shut him up, Thomas would just smile at him in that way that promised he would start offering up blackmail if Loki didn't behave – and Thomas wanted to know more of Asgard and the current state of affairs.

As they neared the gates into the city, Thomas finally got around to asking the question Loki knew he'd most wished the answer to: "Why has your father summoned Loki?"

"He did not say?" Thor wondered.

Loki didn't have to look over his shoulder to know that Thomas was giving Thor that look that said, 'Are you _honestly_ asking me that question?'

Thor let out a sharp laugh. "Forgive me, of course he did not." He sighed and rubbed his hand against his beard, looking towards the golden city sparkling before them. "Loki is required for the continuation of his punishment."

Thomas tensed at Loki's back. "Punishment?" he repeated, confused.

Thor glanced at Loki, who refused to meet his eyes, then reigned in his horse and grabbed for the reins in Loki's slack grip, forcing them to stop before they could pass through the gates. "Loki, you bring him to court his death, and haven't even told him _why_?"

Loki thinned his lips, refusing to reply. He had every reason for not telling Thomas why he would wish his attendance. Loki only wished for Thomas to be waiting for him when he returned to his rooms for the night, and if that was selfish, well, Loki was a selfish creature.

Thomas was comfortable enough on a horse, and the trip had been an easy enough one, that he hadn't bothered holding on to Loki, using his hands, instead, to speak for him as he and Thor had conversed. Loki had wished, more than once, that he'd let Thomas sit in front – if only to save him from almost being hit – but he was suddenly most grateful that the human was behind him as his arms encircled Loki's chest, right hand held protectively over Loki's heart. "One of you needs to tell me about this punishment," he said, voice perfectly calm.

Thor looked to Loki again, but he only pressed his mouth in a tighter line, so the elder god said, "Once a year, until Loki has paid for his crimes, he is to spend every day for a week being removed of his skin."

Thomas' arms tightened around Loki's chest. "And when," Thomas asked, voice tight with anger, "will Loki have paid for his crimes?"

"When Father believes him to be truly repentant."

 _Never,_ Loki didn't say, though it was the truth. Loki felt no sorrow for the lives lost through his deeds, never would, and even should he find reason to honestly feel shame for his attacks on Jötunheim and Midgard, Odin would believe he only ever spoke lies. He was the God of Lies, and he'd earned that title.

"Did no one speak in his defence?" Thomas demanded, and Loki knew that question was aimed at Thor with a look certain to make the blond god feel the greatest shame.

Thor looked away. "Mother and I both did," he said quietly.

Loki took pity on his not-brother and commented lightly, "It was to be a week once every month."

Even through the thick leather and armour separating them, Loki could feel Thomas shaking, and that was _never_ a good sign. "I would like to request an audience with the Allfather," he stated.

Loki snorted. "You are a mortal; you may request nothing of the sort."

"No?" Thomas replied, enough ice in his voice to put Jötunheim to shame. "I am your betrothed, am I not? Does that not grant me the right to meet with your father?"

Loki felt a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach, because he really didn't want to let Thomas near Odin. If Odin discovered they were not true betrothed, he would see Thomas dead only to punish Loki. Mortals were expendable, and that Loki would care enough to bring one into Asgard, then claim him as his _betrothed_ to see him safe, would tell Odin as certainly as anything that Thomas' death would wound Loki in a way that his current punishment never would.

He never should have brought Thomas along.

And Thor, the unthinking fool, was smiling. "It surely does," he agreed. "If we hurry, we might catch him as he's leaving the Council."

Thomas nodded behind Loki and Thor turned to lead the way through the streets, Loki numbly directing his mount to follow.

In the stables, Loki caught Thomas' hand and pulled him to a stop before he could follow Thor into the palace. "Do not do this," he said, aiming for an order, but certain it came out as more of a plea.

Thomas cupped his cheek and leaned forward to rest their foreheads together. "Loki," he whispered, "I can't just sit back as they hurt you."

"So you would, what? Chance your own death to tell Odin what a good soul I am?" Loki snarled, suddenly angry and clinging to the emotion because it was safer.

Thomas' lip turned up at one end. "You're not a good soul," he replied and Loki snorted in spite of himself, "but that doesn't mean you deserve this."

"And what does the murderer of over one thousand mortals deserve?" Loki demanded with no little bite. He knew Thomas' thoughts on the worth of every human being, knew he disapproved of Loki's actions most when someone was harmed. This was not a discussion he'd ever wished to have, but if Thomas would back down, would realise that this was for the best–

Thomas smiled and pressed a gentle kiss to Loki's mouth, then pulled away. "Not this," he said before moving towards where Thor had stopped to wait for them, brow furrowed with concern.

Loki was left with nothing but to follow behind. And hope he could keep Thomas alive, despite his stupidity.

They came upon Odin some steps from the doors to the Council Chambers. He looked almost surprised to see Thor and the man with Loki's face walking calmly at his side, Loki dragging along behind like a well-beaten, yet unbroken, hound. "My sons," he offered before focussing on Thomas. "And who might this be?"

"Loki's betrothed, Thomas Hiddleston," Thor introduced, and Odin's eyebrow raised. "Thomas, Odin Allfather, our father and king."

Thomas sketched an easy bow, smiling like he hadn't spent the ride through the city silently furious at Loki's back. "Allfather. It's an honour to finally meet you and, perhaps, put some of Loki's rather unflattering tales to rest."

 _Oh, yes,_ Loki thought, half bitter, half pleased, _butter him up so he'll be less likely to see you dead._

Odin considered Thomas for a long moment, then looked to where Loki stood sullenly just behind the human. "A mortal, Loki?"

"He amuses me," Loki replied shortly, in no mood for an extended conversation. "Thomas, you have met–"

Thomas shot a look over his shoulder, one that said, in no uncertain terms, 'Shut up'.

Loki's mouth snapped shut against its will.

"I wonder if I might beg a private audience, Allfather?" Thomas asked, perfectly polite.

Odin looked almost intrigued and gave a short nod before motioning for them to follow him down the hall in the opposite direction from whence they'd come. "You will understand, I hope," Odin said to Thomas as they walked, "why I am surprised to find a mortal in my son's company, let alone one professing to be his betrothed."

"I'm aware of Loki's crimes," Thomas said, a note of steel in his voice that he forced away before continuing, "Everything he's done to Jötunheim, Midgard, and Asgard, though I believe much of the lasting damage done to the latter was a joint effort between him and Thor?"

"Indeed," Odin agreed, clearly surprised.

Loki wondered if Thomas was intending to show Odin that he had, as the humans said, 'turned over a new leaf' by suggesting that Loki had opened up to him. Which he _hadn't_ , hadn't needed to, given Thomas' occupation.

It didn't matter. Odin would never forgive him simply because he'd spoken to a human of his crimes.

Odin motioned for them to proceed him as they reached his private office, then closed and warded the door behind himself as they gathered before his desk. Thor sat in one of the two chairs without question, but Thomas refused the other, waving a hand at Loki for him to take it.

"No," Loki hissed, grabbing Thomas' hand and pulling him closer to the chair. "Sit."

Thomas carefully extracted his hand from Loki's and pointed out, "I'll only be up again."

It was the actor in him, Loki knew, that made Thomas speak with his hands all the time. And, on those occasions where he was particularly invested in whatever he was speaking of, he used his entire body to talk. But he was practised at doing so from a seated position – often had to do so during interviews – so why he seemed so certain he wouldn't be able to contain himself this time, Loki couldn't begin to guess.

"Sit?" Thomas requested, and Loki huffed before doing so. "Thank you."

"You had wish to speak with me, Thomas Hiddleston?" Odin interrupted, expression unreadable.

Thomas smiled as he turned to face the king. "Yes. And I beg you forgive me some impudence, but I'm really quite cross with you."

 _He's going to die,_ Loki thought, and wished he could go back in time and tell himself to not bring Thomas along. A week of knowing there would be someone waiting for him who cared for him when he stumbled back into his rooms every night, skin still regrowing under his bloody clothing, was not worth Thomas' life.

Odin watched the human, expression still unreadable. "Indeed. And in what way have I awakened your ire? Some of Loki's unflattering tales?"

"Unflattering truths," Thomas countered, his hands twitching at his sides. "Perhaps it's just my mortal sensibilities, but I fail to see what you hope to gain by skinning someone alive."

Odin's eye narrowed, but before he could speak, Thomas was off, words flowing so quick and sharp from his tongue, it was as though it had been possessed by Loki's silver tongue, but carrying with those words so much more truth than Loki would ever think to offer:

"Perhaps you'll indulge me to point out the flaws inherent in your own society and worldly – or Realmly, in this case – views? The very views which gave rise to Loki's actions against his and my peoples? Don't think I condone his actions – Loki is very well aware that I disapprove – but it is your own fault, and yet it is _him_ you punish.

"Since your war with Jötunheim some thousand years ago, your people have spoken only hatred of the Jötunn. It was well within your power to tell everyone to tone it down, to try explaining to your own sons, at the _very least_ , that they were not the violent beasts of the stories, deserving only death. And then, when given the chance, both Thor and then Loki attempt to see them all dead. And you, rather than trying to correct that hatred they were raised with, you _punish them_.

"Now maybe Thor learned from his exile. Yes, well done, but I guarantee it wasn't your doing. He met the right people, the sort of human that caught his attention in just the right way when he was at his most vulnerable, and instead of punishing him, she offered him friendship, showed him that even the least of the species of the Nine Realms have a worth.

"But Loki... No one stopped and said, 'The Jötunn aren't just mindless monsters that we'd all be better served seeing dead'. Instead, he discovers he _is_ Jötunn, and then, when he tries to rule in your stead, everyone turns on him. And maybe he went about it wrong, maybe backstabbing the Jötunn by pretending to backstab Asgard wasn't really the way to go about that whole mess, but that doesn't change the fact that he was acting the way he'd been taught was right. He was trying to prove that he was actually worth something, in spite of his – and allow me to quote him, here, because this is something we disagree about – 'bad blood'.

"Ah, but then there's Earth. So much rampant destruction, so many pointless deaths. But what does it matter, really? We're just mortal. Our lives are come and gone in a blink, so far as the rest of the Nine Realms is concerned, and we're not really good for anything but breeding and destroying our own planet. There's nearly seven billion of us, what's a thousand or so in the grand scheme of things?"

"Mortals aren't so easily disposed of!" Thor cut in, stealing a chance to speak when Loki and Odin could do little more but stare at the furious mortal pacing between them.

Thomas offered Thor a strained smile and asked, "If I wasn't Loki's betrothed, what would happen to me for visiting Asgard?"

"You would be killed," Thor admitted hollowly.

"Or made a slave," Loki managed to get out past the lump in his throat. He knew Thomas cared for him, even when the mortal was furious with him over a prank set in poor humour, Thomas insisted he loved him. But to have Thomas – his foolish, fragile, _wonderful_ mortal – stand up against Odin Allfather without flinching – even Thor and Frigga would flinch when met with the stare Odin had levelled on Thomas – on _Loki's behalf_ –

He felt dizzy.

"Oh, that's reassuring. Thanks," Thomas said drily before turning back to Odin, meeting his stare head on. "My point is, you're doling out punishments when your sons act as they were taught to act. You basically taught them, 'The Jötunn need to die', and then, when they went to follow that, you told them they were wrong, that the Jötunn had every right to life. You're punishing them for listening to you, and then you wonder why Loki wants nothing to do with you?"

Odin was silent for a long moment, staring at Thomas with a blank expression, but for a hint of anger dancing in his sole eye. At last, voice dangerously low, he asked, "And what, then, would you have me do?"

"Stop teaching lies, for one," Thomas returned, fast as his best game of table tennis. Then he sighed and looked down, rubbing at his eyes. "I can't speak for the rest of your people, but I've discovered that the best way to handle Loki is to reinforce his good behaviour and, well, not exactly _ignore_ the behaviour I don't agree with, but I don't react with violence. I just...refuse to give him what he wants. And that...that works pretty well. He hasn't hurt anyone in almost five months, even if he does still cause enough trouble to drive me spare." He glanced over his shoulder, offering Loki a tired smile.

Loki sniffed, unamused, but he did reach out and catch Thomas' hand, sending a quick spell through the physical contact to ease the knots he could practically _see_ forming in his shoulders.

(Purely a selfish move; Thomas was an absolute misery when he got too tense, and the quicker Loki dealt with it, the more likely Loki was to get what he wanted.)

Thomas' shoulders relaxed and Odin's eye narrowed at their joined hands.

"Please," Thomas whispered, and he sounded so tired, so heartbroken, that Loki wanted to pull him into a hug, audience be damned, "please don't skin him."

Odin stared at Thomas for a long moment, then looked to Loki. "Do you regret your actions?" he demanded.

Loki sneered. "No."

"Then I cannot–"

"Wait, please," Thomas requested and turned to crouch in front of Loki. "Loki, what if I'd been in New York?"

Loki felt like his blood had turned to ice.

"What if my name was on the list of the dead?" Thomas pressed.

" _Stop it_ ," Loki hissed, because he couldn't deal with those thoughts, avoided them to the best of his ability.

"Or, not even me. What if it was Emma? Or Chris?"

" _ **Stop**_!" Loki shouted, shoving out of his chair and turning to leave the office.

But Thomas still had his hand and he used it to pull Loki into an embrace. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "Loki, I'm sorry."

Loki pressed his face against Thomas' throat, taking comfort in the familiar smell of him, the sensation of holding him close while the human breathed into his hair. And he really didn't care, right then, that he was showing a weakness to an enemy – Odin certainly wasn't his ally – because he'd just seen Thomas dead, a blast from a Chitauri singeing his shirt, and he _didn't need that in his head_. "I hate you," he breathed out against Thomas' skin.

"I know," Thomas breathed back. "I'm sorry."

"Loki," Odin called and Loki tensed in Thomas' arms. "Do you regret your actions?"

Loki lifted his head away from Thomas' neck just long enough to snarl, " _No_ ," then returned to his original position.

"Would you do it again?" Thor cut in. And that...was a surprisingly intelligent and relevant question, considering the speaker.

"...no," Loki admitted, because he had no interest in wrecking Midgard again. And, as much as he wanted to see Jötunheim burn, he had no urge to do it himself. He didn't even really want to visit Asgard, truly, would rather remain on Earth with Thomas, reading stupid filming magazines and fighting over the last piece of pie. Preferred to keep his pranks to wrecking displays in the shops or spelling Emma's hair to frizz up as she was leaving the flat after a visit.

"Father," Thor said, "he's learned. Maybe not the same as I, but he's learned. He's becoming someone worthy of his title again; all he needs is time. Please, Father, please end his punishment."

"...very well," Odin agreed at last.

Thomas sagged against Loki and it was suddenly him holding the mortal. "Thank God," Thomas breathed, and Loki could hear the smile in his voice.

Odin cleared his throat and said, "There is the matter of this mortal, however."

Loki spun around and kept Thomas behind him, glaring at the Allfather like he should very much like to see him dead. Which he would.

"Father," Thor tried, looking worried, "he is Loki's betrothed."

"Is he?" Odin wondered.

Sometimes, Loki forgot that Heimdall wasn't the only person in Asgard capable of knowing things Loki would be better off if he didn't.

Still, this could be solved, and Loki very much doubted he would ever regret turning around and taking Thomas' hands in his. "Will you?" he asked, and how was it that asking a _mortal_ to marry him was more nerve-wracking than the idea of spending a week being skinned alive?

And Thomas smiled, wide and gentle and full of all the love he always claimed. "Of course I'll marry you," he agreed.

Loki turned a challenging stare on Odin and the king sighed. "Very well."

Thor let out a cheer while Loki celebrated in the far quieter and more pleasurable manner of kissing Thomas breathless.


	16. During Their Morning Rituals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter Warnings:** Crack, Loki's a little shit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I put a large heaping of blame onto the shoulders of itsnotpoptarts for this travesty.

The chime of his alarm broke through the haze of sleep and Tom quickly reached over and turned it off before Loki could stir. He took a moment to rub sleep from his eyes, then climbed out of bed. He unplugged his mobile and carried it with him into the bathroom, checking his email as he went.

A shower and a quick brush of his teeth later, and Tom was back out in the bedroom, rooting through his wardrobe for something to wear on his morning run. Behind him, on the bed, Loki shifted and let out an adorable sound, and Tom froze, glancing over his shoulder to insure the god hadn't woken; he was an absolute horror if he was up before breakfast was cooking, and Tom wouldn't start on that until after his run.

But Loki remained asleep, cuddling against his pillow in a way that Tom absolutely couldn't resist. He opened the camera on his phone, took the shot, then returned to his clothing, resisting the urge to let out a rather unmanly giggle.

Once he was dressed, he went to the kitchen to fill his bottle with water, then stopped by his computer and rooted around for his headphones. They'd been buried under one of Loki's magical texts, attached to the iPod that had randomly appeared one day. (Tom had very determinedly _not_ asked, because he knew Loki and didn't doubt there had been no legal currency involved in getting the music player. And, with Loki, you learned to pick your battles.)

After plugging the headphones into his mobile and snapping it into the armband he had to keep it safe, Tom made his way out of the flat.

The run was both calming and energising, and he slipped back into the flat with a grin. He tried to keep quiet, but he'd returned during a rather upbeat song and he danced his way into the kitchen to start breakfast. He pulled open the fridge, glanced around it for options, then froze upon finding the spot where the chocolate milk was supposed to be empty. A quick, panicked search turned up no chocolate milk in the fridge, but it had been added to the shop list.

Loki would kill him if there wasn't any chocolate milk.

Tom tugged helplessly at his hair for a moment, then turned to hurry back out, but a glance at the bedroom on his way past saw the bed empty, and when he pulled out his headphones, he could hear the shower running.

He was so dead. Either there was no chocolate milk and Loki would kill him, or there would be no breakfast and Loki would kill him.

And then, a moment's genius: There wasn't chocolate milk, but there _was_ normal milk and chocolate ice cream. Loki thought Tom's skim milk was too weak, hence the reason he couldn't just mix up some chocolate milk, but the ice cream should solve that. Also, ice cream for breakfast; Loki would probably love him.

Maybe.

Tom really hoped so.

Tom darted back into the kitchen and pulled out everything he'd need for a milkshake. And, as an added security, he pulled out things for chocolate chip hotcakes, then got to work.

By the time Loki stumbled into the dining room, Tom had made about half the batter and the milkshake was done and sitting innocently in the blender. He left the hotcake-making for a bit and served out Loki his food and milkshake, then brought it out to him. "Good morning," he offered as he set the plate and cup down.

Loki considered everything with a frown. "Is it another one of those weird mortal holidays?" he asked, waving at the hotcakes; Tom rarely made something so sweet for breakfast, as he didn't much care for it.

"No. I just felt like doing something nice?" Tom suggested.

"What have you done?" Loki demanded, waving his fork at the human.

Tom shuffled out of arms reach. "I never got you more chocolate milk," he admitted.

Loki narrowed his eyes and picked up the glass next to his plate. "And this?"

"Ah, a chocolate milkshake. It's milk and ice cream."

Some of the anger drained from Loki's eyes at the name of his favourite food. He took a sip, considered it for a moment, then set the glass back down and turned his attention to the hotcakes. "This will suffice," he decided.

Tom resisted the urge to let out a relieved sound and returned to the kitchen to finish the last of the hotcakes. When they were finished, he made up a plate for himself, then brought that and the extras out to the dining room. Loki snatched most of the pile of extras, ate them in the time it took Tom to eat most of his first serving, then turned greedy eyes on the two he'd left on the plate.

Tom rolled his eyes. "I had some while I was making them," he said, and Loki took that as his permission to take the last two.

It was Loki's job to clean up, which he did while Tom changed for the day. As Tom was heading for the front door, though, Loki caught him and shoved him against the wall, pressed tight against Tom's front so their noses brushed. Tom went cross-eyed looking at him and couldn't help but swallow with some difficulty. "Yes?" he managed.

Loki's eyes glinted with the sort of evil intention that always made Tom more than a little nervous. "You will be making me chocolate milkshakes from now on."

"Okay," Tom breathed out.

"And if you forget my chocolate milk tonight, you will be sleeping on the ceiling."

And, by that, Loki meant he would bring Tom to the brink of orgasm, then keep him from coming and attach him to the ceiling by magic for the entire night, only to be freed when his morning alarm went off. It was absolutely miserable.

"I won't," Tom swore.

"Good." Loki nipped the end of Tom's nose, then pulled back so Tom had some space and placed a gentle kiss on the human's lips. "Have a good day," he simpered in that way that always made Tom wish he could ban Loki from watching daytime television. Because, really? The stay-at-home wife routine was so much more disturbing when delivered by the God of Mischief and Lies. Tom was always afraid he'd come home to find the building burned down. Or a zoo in their living room. (It had happened once, and he really wouldn't put it past Loki to do it again.)

"You too, darling," Tom replied, because Loki hated it when he went off script.

And then he left to make his way to whatever interviews Luke had booked for him that day, silently repeating to himself, _'Don't forget the chocolate milk. Do **not** forget the chocolate milk.'_

He forgot the chocolate milk.


	17. Spooning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter Warnings:** Fluff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck Christmas and fuck Christmas decorations that take multiple days and multiple people to put up. And fuck that 12ft Santa. (If it has an accident, it's not my fault.)  
> Fair warning, tomorrow will probably be late, too. Because the decorations aren't completely up. Ugh. (Photos are on [my tumblr](http://batsutousai.tumblr.com/tagged/I-hate-this-season.).)
> 
> Here. Have some fluff. It made me feel better. (Even though it's more cuddling than spooning and pathetically short. But I'm tired. Shut up.)

Thomas let out a sigh as he dropped onto the couch just in front of Loki's stomach.

"What are you doing?" Loki demanded, glaring up at the human.

Thomas didn't look away from the telly. "Sitting on my couch."

"I have clearly already laid claim–" Loki started, motioning to show that he'd stretched out over the length of the couch.

"Not today, Loki," Thomas said, sounding so very worn.

Loki paused to consider the human. He took in the dark bruises under his eyes, the way his eyes kept fluttering closed before snapping back open, the slump to his posture...

Loki pressed his mouth into an unamused line and snagged Thomas around the waist. "Come down here."

Thomas jerked in surprise and almost fell of the couch, shouting, "Loki, what–?!"

But Loki steadied him and finished laying Thomas down. "Feet up," he ordered.

"What's going on?" Thomas asked even as he obeyed the command.

Loki curled his arms around Thomas' chest and pulled him back until they were flush, using a pillow to keep his head high enough to see the telly over the mortal's head. "Sleep," he snapped.

"I'm not tir–"

"Go to sleep, Thomas," Loki said, voice gentler.

"...okay," Thomas finally agreed.

Within two minutes, his breathing had evened out.

Ten minutes later, Loki joined him in the land of dreams.


	18. Doing Something Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter Warnings:** Loki's not as much a Grinch as I wanted him to be, some religious history (the author's Pagan upbringing might be showing), Loki's a little shit, allusions to Tom Hiddleston/Susannah Fielding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah. Bet you can't guess where my brain is. *ded*  
> I was, originally, thinking to have them watch _The Snowman_ (1982), but I decided I didn't feel like watching it again while I wrote, just so I had everything right. But, cute film. Apparently one Tom watched a lot as a kid. Maybe it'll show up late in this series, or in another fic. We'll see.

"What is the point of this?" Loki demanded, pointing at the array of boxes that Thomas was pulling from various hiding places. Loki couldn't remember seeing any of them before, which was impressive, because he'd gone through every cupboard and closet in the flat at least twice, digging through the human's secrets and learning everything he could of the man in the easiest way possible. But he'd turned up none of these boxes.

"It's–" Thomas frowned and looked over the strewn boxes, sat in front of wherever they'd been pulled from. "It's Christmas. It's a holiday meant to, well..." He set down the box he'd been holding and scratched the back of his head. "It started out as a way to sort of survive the long nights of the winter. Sort of, you know, party through the night, pretend it's not cold and dark all the time. That sort of stuff.

"But then Christianity took over the religion, made it more about their... I'm not sure what to call him. Their patron saint, maybe? Jesus, anyway. The son of the one true God."

Loki scoffed.

"I know, I know." Thomas rolled his eyes, familiar with Loki's thoughts surrounding the humans' 'Jealous God', as he called him. "I'm just telling you what this is. So, the Christians said Jesus was born on the twenty-fifth, which was pretty near the winter Solstice, and everything got sort of mixed up together. Throw in a bit of goodwill and commercialism, and you've got Christmas."

"Yes, fine. But what is the point of _this_ ," Loki repeated, pointing, again, at all the boxes.

Thomas glanced around a bit blankly. "Uhm... Decoration?"

Loki resisted the urge to throttle him.

Thomas shrugged and turned to pull out a last box before shutting the closet door. "I'm sure there's a meaning behind a Christmas tree, but I'm not sure what it is. You can look it up."

"Am I expected to assist with this...decoration?" Loki asked instead, thinking he might well look up a more through explanation for all the boxes later. When Thomas wasn't home.

Thomas sighed and set his current box down before moving unerringly towards the largest of the boxes and cutting it open. "It would be nice if you did," he said to Loki's question. Then he started pulling out green things which vaguely resembled branches.

"What is _that_?" Loki asked, scooting closer.

"Christmas tree."

"Trees do not come in pieces."

Thomas smiled a bit sadly. "It's fake. I've spent too many Christmases in and out of the city to take care of a real one, and I always feel bad about asking people to come by and check the water level. So I bought this one last year." He glanced up at Loki, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Want to help me create a tree?"

Okay. That was a little tempting. "Can I destroy it, too?" Loki returned.

"In January."

Loki considered that for a moment, then nodded and stepped closer to help in putting the tree together. It wasn't _too_ terrible, and went quickly enough with two of them. Then came the string of lights, the ornaments – Loki may have dropped a few of them on purpose, just to see if they'd shatter; five of the twelve did – and a star for the top.

At the bottom of the ornaments box, there was a small box that Loki got to first. Inside was a fake approximation of two leaves and some berries, tied with a red bow that had a loop on the end to hang it by. Loki recognised the object as mistletoe, but he couldn't begin to guess at its existence, given that it was nothing like the globes and fake snowflakes the other ornaments were made of.

Thomas glanced over to see what had Loki so enthralled – he usually made more noise when he broke an ornament, then magically vanished the remains, rather than just repairing it – and his expression twisted oddly before he held out a hand. "I forgot about that," he commented in a voice that was too light.

Loki closed his hand around the mistletoe and held it away, just to be difficult. "What is it for?" he enquired.

Thomas let his hand drop back to his side. "Ah. It's a human tradition; if you're standing under mistletoe, you're required to kiss."

"And why would you have such a thing?" He certainly hadn't bought it for Loki, not if it was so far down in a box that had been hidden away. And it felt older, like it had been in Thomas' possession for longer than Loki had been in Midgard.

"Susannah bought it," Thomas admitted.

 _The ex-girlfriend,_ Loki recognised. Thomas spoke little of her, though Loki had come to understand from the human's friends and family that they had parted on cordial terms.

"I should probably just bin it," Thomas continued, reaching out a hand for it again.

Loki didn't much care to think about Thomas' relationships before himself, but he wasn't about to pass up a perfectly good opportunity, so he held it above his head and raised an eyebrow at the human in a silent challenge.

Thomas paused and considered him for a moment, then stepped around the ornaments box to meet him. "Is this your way of telling me to keep it?" he asked.

"Kiss me before I shove this abomination down your throat," Loki returned.

Thomas laughed and leaned in for a kiss, one hand reaching up to take the mistletoe from Loki. He didn't pull away once he had the fake plant, instead wrapping his arms around the god and deepening the kiss. He licked at the inside of Loki's mouth like he couldn't get enough, and Loki let him, clutching at the human's shoulders and giving him the control Loki usually couldn't give up. After all, he had told Thomas to kiss him, had he not?

When Thomas eventually pulled back, his pupils were blown with want, but he was smiling. "Mistletoe. Keeping or binning?"

"I would have something more true."

Thomas nodded. "I wanted to get a live wreath. For the front door. We can look into getting real mistletoe while we're out."

"That is acceptable."

"Okay. Bedroom?"

Loki smirked and pulled the human along in his wake.

When they put the empty boxes away a few hours later, Loki was pretty sure he saw the box with the fake mistletoe at the bottom of the ornaments box. But he didn't make mention of it; it would be important for next Christmas.


	19. In Formal Wear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter Warnings:** Loki's a little shit, minor fight between the boys, Chris saves the day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In a point of warning, your author has absolutely zero fashion sense. (You think I'm kidding. I'm not; my idea of dressing up is putting on one of my few t-shirts without a picture on it, possibly the jumper Mum made me for Yule a couple years ago, if it's cold enough. Also, not wearing my pirate hat. That seems to be a key point, for some reason. Not sure why pirate hats aren't fashionable...)  
> There are reasons I rarely make comment on what characters are wearing in my writing. :/

Tom fiddled with his tie for a long moment, watching himself in the mirror. As ever, he looked quite dapper in the black slacks and white button-up. He was still uncertain whether to pick his grey suit jacket or the black one, but he was leaning more towards the grey, given the dark green tie Loki had replaced all his other ties with that morning. Not that he _couldn't_ go with the black, it just felt too formal. If he had a lighter tie, maybe, or if he intended to wear his tux, it would be okay, but not like it was now.

He sighed and finally left the tie to sit. It wasn't what he would usually wear, preferring grey ties with a pattern; black; or blue or red, if he wanted a flash of colour. He tended to avoid green, since everyone connected that colour with Loki. And while he, by no means, disliked Loki, he didn't necessarily want to be constantly compared to his big role. Especially since said 'big role' was also his lover.

Speaking of Loki... Tom stepped out into the living room and looked to where Loki was curled up on the couch in nothing but an open bathrobe, Tom's copy of _Othello_ open in his hands. "Please?" he tried for what was probably the twelfth time in the past two days.

"No," Loki replied, not looking up from the book. "I'm reading."

Given how much he'd sneered at Shakespeare when Tom handed over one of his plays months ago, Tom was nearly certain Loki wasn't _actually_ reading the book for enjoyment, but rather to be difficult. Just like he'd vanished all of Tom's ties, and stuck his best shoes to the ceiling. (Tom was wearing his second-best, because he knew he'd never get them down without Loki's help.)

"You can read at the première?"

Loki shot him a disgusted look. "I'm not going, mortal."

Oh. Well. So he was 'mortal' again, was he? Tom pressed his mouth in a thin line to keep from saying something nasty in response; it was a skill, not responding to things that irritated him, and one he'd had much practise with when Loki had first moved in with him a few months ago. He'd thought they were past that, but clearly not.

He went back into the bedroom to pick out his grey jacket, then made for the door, pulling it on. "Goodbye," he offered before stepping outside.

Out on the pavement, he took a deep breath of the familiar air of his home and managed a smile for his driver when he stepped out of the waiting car. "Rough night?" he asked.

"It'll be fine," Tom returned, sliding into the car.

"Are we picking up your date?"

Tom had to force his smile to remain steady. "No. Not this time."

His driver, wisely, didn't ask.

The cinema wasn't far from his flat, but he'd already been warned off about walking there in his suit, especially now that he was so well known. If Loki had agreed to come, he could have chanced the walk, knowing the god would keep them both safe and out of the public eye.

But Loki had made his feelings on seeing _Thor: The Dark World_ quite clear. Tom would be lucky if he didn't ban the blu-ray from the flat.

On the red carpet, he greeted his co-workers and answered various questions posed to him with a wide smile. It wasn't until Chris pulled him to the side, blocking Tom from view of any cameras and asking, "Where's Loki?" that he let his smile fall.

"He's not coming," he replied, monotone.

Chris' mouth pressed into a thin line.

"It doesn't matter," Tom continued, shrugging, trying to blow it off because he didn't need his best friend feeling sorry for him.

"It does. He said he'd be here."

Tom raised an eyebrow at that. "Not to me. He's made his feelings on this film _perfectly_ clear."

Chris' eyes flickered down to the green tie, knowing Tom's preference in avoiding the colour. "Let me borrow your phone?"

Tom frowned. "Why?" he asked, even as he handed it over.

Chris smiled reassuringly and took a moment to sort through Tom's lock screen and find the application to call someone, then held the mobile to his ear. When it picked up, Tom thought he heard Loki's voice snapping, _" **What**?"_ before Chris snapped, "Either you get your skinny bum down here and act like a proper boyfriend, or I get in contact with your brother and have him drag you back to Asgard for the next two weeks. Clear?" Then he hung up and handed the mobile back to Tom.

Tom sort of blinked at him in disbelief for a long minute, then demanded, "What the _hell_ was that?"

Chris didn't get the chance to answer as Loki suddenly appeared at Tom's elbow, dressed in all black but for Tom's favourite blue tie and his scarf from _Thor_. "You would be wise, Hemsworth, not to threaten me again," he snarled.

"Don't be a jerk," Chris returned, unafraid. "You told me last month that you were excited to see this film."

"What?" Tom mumbled, blinking between the two. Loki had expressed nothing but disgust for the second _Thor_ film around him.

Loki's expression completely closed off. "I did nothing of the sort."

"I have chat transcripts."

Loki's lips curled with a nasty smile as he raised one hand. "I shall enjoy sending you to my daughter, mor–"

Tom grabbed Loki's arm and forced it down. " _Enough_ ," he hissed, narrowing his eyes at the god. "You're not threatening Chris because you decided to mix your lies and got caught. If you're determined to be homicidal today, go home. Otherwise, calm down and smile for the cameras."

Something uncertain passed over Loki's features before he schooled them into a polite smile and eased his arm from Tom's grip. "Of course, Thomas," he murmured, perfectly polite.

Tom was more than a little suspicious, but he quickly pasted his own smile in place, familiar enough with the sensation of Loki's magic keeping them unnoticed to sense when it was fading away.

It took a moment for the reporters to recognise that a new man, looking very like Tom, had joined him and Chris in moving along the red carpet. The nearest reporter quickly called out, "Mr Hiddleston!" and Tom took Loki's arm to drag him over, leaving Chris to find Elsa alone.

"Hello, there," Tom offered cheerfully.

"Who is this gentleman?" the reporter asked, and his and at least a half-dozen other microphones immediately turned Tom's way.

At his side, Loki tensed.

Tom glanced over at him, offering a smile that was half reassurance, half 'please don't make a scene', then answered, "This is Loki, my lover." Loki, unexpectedly, relaxed at the last word.

There was a brief silence, then an explosion of questions, everywhere from asking about Loki's gender, to questioning the extent of the word 'lover'. The original reporter, though, asked, " _The_ Loki?"

Tom let out a brief laugh. "Yes. _The_ Loki. God of Lies and Mischief. And, please, for the sake of everyone's sanity, don't challenge him about it."

"Ah, but Thomas, that could prove so much _fun_ ," Loki said, voice smooth as silk.

Tom raised an eyebrow at the god and Loki smirked back. He could feel Loki's fingers gesturing against his arm and resigned himself to some old-fashioned mayhem, but all that occurred was the scarf from _Avengers Assemble_ appearing around his neck.

"You forgot something at home," Loki offered with a disturbingly sweet smile.

Tom could think of no better response but to laugh and kiss the smile off the god's lips, cameras be damned. If he wanted to kiss his lover, he was going to kiss his lover. "Behave," he whispered as he pulled away.

There was a spark of honest happiness in Loki's eyes even as he smirked and replied, "Don't I always?"

Okay. So maybe the world wasn't ready for Loki, but Tom was still glad he'd come.


	20. Dancing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter Warnings:** Crack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was like, 'Well, crap. I'm sure they both know how to dance, and it's not outside the realm of possibility that they would do so, but _why_ are they going to a dance?' *flail*  
>  And then it hit me.  
> What if Loki discovered _Gangnam Style_?

It had been a long day, and Tom was looking forward to relaxing with the take-out he'd picked up and a film before crawling into bed. And, so long as he let Loki pick the film, he would get exactly that. Because Loki, for all that he drove Tom completely insane sometimes, was completely understanding of wanting to relax after a long day spent running around at the whim of others. (Tom had never asked, but he suspected the understanding was due to Thor's preference for the physical arts clashing with Loki's preference for the mind arts.)

Tom sighed and pushed open the door to his flat, then froze in the doorway to find Loki dancing around the living room like... Well, like an idiot. A very happy, ridiculously drunk idiot. He closed his eyes, rubbed at them, then peeked them open again.

Loki was still dancing.

"Loki?" he called and stepped through the door.

The music hit him like a physical force, the beat making the floor throb. Tom would have wondered how he hadn't noticed the music before, but he was getting used to the sound suppressing magic Loki had worked into the walls after the first time a neighbour had come by to make sure everything was well during a particularly rambunctious round of sex. (Loki had thought it was hysterical, but Tom had been embarrassed and ended up bargaining with the god for some sort of silencing magic. The week spend calling in 'sick' so he could serve as Loki's sex slave had been completely worth it.)

At least now he knew why Loki was dancing, and why he hadn't noticed the door opening, nor Tom calling his name. Tom sighed and pushed the door closed behind him, slipped off his shoes, and sidetracked to the kitchen to put the food on the worktop. Then he walked back into the living room and put his hands at Loki's waist.

The music died and Loki spun on the spot, expression torn between excitement and embarrassment at being caught. "Ah," he said, managing unruffled with a disturbing amount of ease, "you're home."

"I'm home," Tom agreed, amused. "I brought Thai with me."

Loki glanced towards the kitchen, then back at where Tom was still standing in front of him, hands at his waist. "Yes?" he drawled.

"That song sounds familiar."

"It is not unknown," Loki said, eyes flickering to where the laptop sat open on the coffee table, which had been pushed against the couch to make room for the god to dance. "It is called, I believe, ' _Gangnam Style_ '."

Tom grinned. "It's really popular. Did you really only now discover it?"

Loki narrowed his eyes for a moment before his expression smoothed over. "Perhaps I have my mischief in fewer pies than you believed."

"Fingers, Loki," Tom corrected with resignation. He was pretty sure the god got those little human saying wrong just to irritate him. "You put your _fingers_ in pies, not your mischief."

"Perhaps you do," Loki countered, "but my mischief gets into everything." He flicked a hand at the laptop and the music started up again. "Dance with me."

"No, Loki, I'm tir–"

Loki vanished from in front of him, only to reappear pressed tight against his back. "Dancing," he breathed in Tom's ear, brushing his hands along Tom's arms until they'd met up with Tom's hands. "I looked up the moves online."

"There are actual moves to this?" Tom wondered a bit helplessly as Loki manipulated his arms into doing what he wanted.

"There are moves to everything," Loki agreed.

"Hungry. Tired," Tom tried.

"One dance."

Tom sighed and let the god show him the moves, then they danced one song through. It was actually quite a lot of fun, all things considered, and Tom briefly entertained the idea of teaching it to everyone on set, just because watching a group of actors, set hands, the director, and whoever else was on set at the time doing this dance would be absolutely brilliant. And Loki would probably be ecstatic.

They did stop after one song, and Loki got the food while Tom collapsed back onto the couch after shoving the coffee table out of the way. When Loki joined him with the food, the god flicked a hand at the television and it flickered on to parodies of the song they'd been dancing to. Tom only groaned a little. (He did end up laughing at more than a few of them, especially when Loki got up to dance some more once he'd finished his food.)

He went to bed with the damn song stuck in his head and woke up with it there, too.

He also woke up to Loki dancing nakedly into the bathroom, so he considered it a fair trade and laughed as he started his day.


	21. Cooking/Baking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter Warnings:** Crack, Loki's a little shit, Tom's and angel (with horns), suggestions of food sex, suggestions of public humiliation, spatula abuse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your author cannot, in fact, cook. (Okay, little lie. Your author can make about three things in the kitchen, two of which involve a minor form of 'cooking'.)  
> Your author apologises in advance for any cooking inaccuracies.  
> Your author also needs to stop speaking of herself in the third person.
> 
> Also, I'm uncertain where Loki's sudden love for covering Tom in food has come from. And why chocolate syrup has yet to be involved. (I tried, Aisling. I really did.)

"I am capable of crafting food," Loki insisted from the entrance to the kitchen. He'd been banished there by Thomas ten minutes ago, after sneaking in to steal some of the cookie dough the mortal was working with.

"I might be willing to believe that, if you ever actually offered," Thomas returned absently as he left the two filled baking pans to check the oven.

Loki braced his arm against the wall and leaned forward to grab the unattended bowl with the rest of the cookie dough.

Thomas spun on the spot and flung a spatula at his head, which hit him just between the eyes and caused Loki to lose his grip on the wall. He dropped to the ground with a groan and grabbed at his face. "Owowowowowowow..." he moaned dramatically, though it was already mostly healed and had stopped hurting.

Thomas walked over, bent down to pick up the fallen spatula, then set about swatting Loki's shoulders and the top of his head with the flat side. "Out of the kitchen. Now."

Loki immediately scuttled back over the marked line between kitchen and dining room and levelled a glare on his lover. "I will kill you," he snarled, because it seemed like the proper response.

"You were warned," Thomas replied, unconcerned.

"I will string you up, naked, in the Tower of London."

"Of course you will."

"With a dildo stuck up your arse, all leaking and horny for the world to see and photograph."

"I'm shaking in my slippers."

"I'll put a sign on you: 'Free to fuck'."

The oven dinged and Thomas set about putting the two baking sheets inside, ignoring Loki entirely.

"I'll have you naked on a leash and lead you about the city on your knees, horny and completely unable to come while people stare at you–"

"Would you rather have sex, or cookies?" Thomas wondered a bit absently.

Loki huffed and pulled himself to his feet. "I intend to have _both_." He pointed at the cookie dough sitting innocently on the worktop.

"First off, you'll make yourself sick off that stuff, and you remember how pleasant you were last time you caught sick."

"I was perfectly plea–"

"You were a right horror and I fully intend to send you back to Asgard if you act like that again."

Loki scowled.

"Second, I am not letting you smear unbaked cookie dough all over my body just so you can gorge yourself as you fuck me, then leave me to clean it off while you nap. The ice cream was bad enough, but at least _it_ was water soluble."

"But it was delicious," Loki pointed out.

Thomas pointed the spatula at him, unmoved. "No. You'll have cookies when these are done and if you come into my kitchen again, I'm inviting your brother over to share."

"And how, exactly, do you intend to _reach_ my brother?" Loki wondered a bit mockingly.

Thomas smiled at him in just such a way that Loki felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Oh, didn't you know? He's in Midgard for a few weeks."

"No, he's not."

"Isn't he?"

Loki closed his eyes and took a brief jaunt to the metaphysical world to see if he could spot Thor's familiar spiritual self; it was easier on Midgard than it had ever been on Asgard, given the lack of trained magic in most mortals. Thor was, indeed, there, though fairly distant at the moment. "Hemsworth," Loki snarled as he came back to himself.

Thomas was smiling rather smugly, spatula held loosely in one hand, mobile in the other. "So, am I calling Chris, or are you going to behave yourself?"

And, oh, as much as Loki wanted cookie dough – especially while smeared all over his mortal lover – he had no interest in putting up with Thor, would avoid it at all costs. So he simply shot Thomas a nasty glare, then stalked off to go make trouble on the mortal's twitter account, trying to ignore Thomas' laughter following him.


	22. In Battle, Side-By-Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter Warnings:** Battle, Loki's a little shit, Loki honestly cares about Tom, Tom's an angel (with horns), Amora and Skurge are pathetic (like always)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vaguely inspired by an idea I had for the _Interaction_ series that got scrapped before I started working on _Give This Man His Wings_.
> 
> I went back and forth a bit over whether or not to kill Loki off. Ended up deciding not to.  
> You're welcome.
> 
> And the bit about Project Wendy was written before Kate said she'd received confirmation that Tom had it at last. I am in the _zone_. (Not that we've heard from Tom, yet...)

It was an average, rather boring day. Loki hadn't complained over breakfast about anything, the filming crews were packed up for the holidays, and Tom was spending the day reading over fanmail at the office while a brilliant video inspired by the MTV After Hours skit he'd preformed played on his laptop. (He thought it was wonderful, but Loki thought it was stupid and refused to let it in the flat – Tom was lucky he'd got the book past his lover, honestly, but at least the book didn't make any noise – so he kept the video at the office and let it run while he was working.)

Not that answering fanmail was _boring_ , per se, but one expected a certain amount of chaos when living with the God of Mischief. There were times when Loki would follow him in to the office and play around with the electronics, or move things when people looked away for a moment. There were also days when Loki would sit quietly by Tom's side and help him answer fanmail – Tom always spent those days half afraid Loki was going to be nasty in his replies, half grateful for the assistance – or chat politely with others in the office, no pranks in sight. And Tom, as crazy as Loki's visits made him, always missed him when he decided to stay at the flat. Like today.

Tom finished sealing the return envelope for his latest response, then took a moment to stretch and eye the nearest clock. It was nearly time for lunch, and if he left now, he could make it home about the time Loki would be looking for food. (The god completely ruined all expectations by being particular about what time he ate at, and Tom had never seen him miss his designated time to eat by more than two minutes, no matter what happened.) So he put the envelope in his outbox and stood from his desk.

"Leaving for lunch?" one of his nearby fellows asked.

"Heading home for, yeah," he agreed, picking up his coat and sunglasses.

She grinned. "Ooh. Bit of a quickie before you dive back into your pile?"

Tom laughed. "Nah. Rather bring him back with me and see how well he fits under my desk." He wiggled his eyebrows as a number of people nearby laughed, while a couple made vague noises of complaint.

Outside, he took a moment to consider the heavy lunch hour traffic, then waved away the waiting driver; it would be faster for him to walk, and he didn't live so far from the office that anyone had reason to complain. So Tom pulled his hat tight over his head and wrapped his scarf around enough to cover his mouth; with his sunglasses hiding his eyes, he knew no one would look twice at him as they moved past.

He was maybe two blocks from his and Loki's flat when the explosion occurred not half a metre in front of him. A year living with Loki had taught him how to keep his feet when the unexpected occurred, but it couldn't possibly have kept him safe from the debris.

Yet, safe he was. While others lay around him, blood showing through bulky winter coats or along the unprotected skin of their faces, he stood, untouched. _Loki did something,_ he suspected.

But there was no time to thank his lover, because a bolt of violently green magic – too light a colour to be Loki's – came straight for him. He flinched back, but the light dissipated against a sort of faintly blue bubble encasing him.

" _Fight me, you pathetic excuse for a god_!" a woman screamed from above him.

Tom glanced up to find a woman in a revealing green gown, with long blonde hair, standing on the roof of the building he'd been walking past. A rather extensive knowledge of all things Marvel – or, at the least, all things to do with Loki – let him recognise her as Amora. A year of carefully wheedling truths from the God of Lies told him she and Loki had often worked together in the past – and slept together once, when he needed her unconscious for one of his plans – until he had betrayed her in a rather unpleasant manner that had her swearing vengeance upon him.

 _And now she's collecting on that vengeance. Except she thinks I'm Loki,_ Tom recognised as he dodged another blast of magic, uncertain how long his protective bubble would hold. He knew enough about magic to know there was a limit to how much a spell could do away from its caster, and he didn't want to find that limit at the wrong end of Amora's magic. He needed to get Loki.

Tom turned and ran towards his flat, dodging startled people and hoping he could make it to his home before–

The pavement exploded all around him and Tom went flying through the air.

Someone caught him by one leg and he gave a moment's hope it would be Loki, but is was Skurge who was glaring down at him as Amora finally caught up, flushed an angry red and gasping from exertion. "What makes you think that you can just _ru_ –" She cut herself off, an odd expression crossing her face. "Oh? You're not that backstabbing little Jötun."

"No," Tom stated with all his hard-won calm and dry tone from dealing with Loki for a year, "I'm _not_. Now if you would kindly _put me do_ –"

"Kill him," Amora told Skurge, turning away.

 _Right. I'm screwed,_ Tom recognised. But he wasn't just going to lay there and _die_ like a good human, so he braced his free foot against the grip Skurge had on him and _shoved_.

The same blue light that had created the protective bubble rose up, out of his skin, and loosened Skurge's grip on his leg enough for him to get free, then cushioned Tom before he could slam rather painfully against the ground, given that Skurge had been holding him over the edge of a roof some four storeys up.

And, okay, so magic wasn't really something he had extensive knowledge of, but living with Loki for a year had taught him enough that he was pretty sure protective shield spells didn't act like that. So what–?

Something sent Amora crashing into Skurge above him, sending them both toppling off the roof. Tom quickly scurried out of the way and cleared the spot just before the two crashed into the pavement without any cushioning magic to ease their landing.

Over the edge of the roof, Loki appeared like an avenging angel, dressed in full battle gear and hands glowing with dark green magic. He stared down on the scene for a moment before suddenly disappearing from the roof, only to reappear at Tom's side. "You're alive," he breathed, pulling Tom into a hug.

Tom relaxed against the god, burying his face against Loki's neck as the fear finally caught up to him, making him shake like a leaf in the wind. "Yeah," he whispered. "Yeah, I'm okay."

The familiar feel of Loki's magic tingled against his skin and an ache in Tom's leg that he hadn't even noticed – from where Skurge had held him, he was fairly certain – faded away. When the magic faded, taking Tom's shaking with it, Loki finally asked, "How?"

Tom shook his head and pulled away enough to meet Loki's eyes, sharp with barely contained anger and a well of love and concern that Tom knew, without asking, was for him. "I don't know," he admitted. "I just... I fell, and this blue magic caught me."

Loki raised both eyebrows. "Intriguing."

"Do you have any idea–"

" _ **Loki**_!" Amora screamed as she finally stumbled off Skurge's groaning form. Blood coloured her hair and dress, ruining the rather lovely image she'd previously been, and her expression was twisted with such fury that Tom honestly felt no shame in stepping around behind his lover, keeping the god between him and the angry enchantress.

Loki smiled, an edge of violence turning what should have appeared sweet into something nearly as terrifying as Amora's fury. "Amora, darling," he purred. "What brings you struggling between dimensions?"

"I will see you _dead_ , Jötun scum," Amora snarled.

"Oh, revenge. Of course," Loki said, completely unconcerned. "How...plebeian. Ah, but I should expect nothing less from a banished purveyor of party tricks."

Amora let out a wordless scream of fury and shot a large ball of bright green fire at the god.

Loki redirected the ball with an offhanded spell, covering his mouth as though politely hiding a yawn.

Amora snarled and turned to Skurge, who was finally regaining his feet, swaying slightly from blood loss or a crack to the head, Tom wasn't sure which. "Get the mortal," she ordered him, "and _break his neck_."

Loki's shoulders tensed and he made a quick motion with his hands that sent a more moderately-sized, darker green fireball than Amora had let out towards the burly man.

It was Amora's turn to reflect the spell, but she didn't look bored while doing so, only pleased.

"Blue magic," Loki hissed from the corner of his mouth, voice not matching the vaguely panicked turn of his eyes or the hurried spells he cast to try keeping Skurge back – and which Amora kept deflecting – in the slightest. "It protected you from a fall. What else?"

"Uhm, protected me from her attacks, like a bubble, and sort of... I don't know. Pushed Skurge's hand away from my leg."

"A bubble?" Loki wondered, amusement in his tone.

"Well, what would you call it, then?" Tom hissed. Maybe Loki was unbothered by Skurge's approach, but Tom most certainly _wasn't_.

"I didn't see it," Loki pointed out logically. "Why don't you see if you can show me? And maybe keep that lumbering fool at bay while you're at it."

"You're a complete _arse_ ," Tom muttered even as he closed his eyes, uncertain if it would work, but also a bit afraid to look.

Skurge let out a roar of fury and Tom could actually _feel_ the collision of Æsir and magical barrier in his bones.

Loki cackled, no longer pretending to be even the slightest bit concerned. "How long can you hold that?" he asked Tom.

"You ask that like you think I have _any_ idea what I'm doing," Tom muttered.

Loki huffed in amusement. "Are you feeling at all tired?"

Tom considered that for a moment before finally opening his eyes and looking over Loki's shoulder at where Skurge and Amora were raging outside the light blue barrier. "No."

"Then we'll be fine," Loki decided, stroking a hand against Tom's cheek. "This will be best if you have no physical contact with me while I cast. When I say so, however, I will need you to wrap your arms around my waist and drop your 'bubble'. Do you understand?"

Tom swallowed. "Yeah."

Loki nodded and stepped away from him, turning back towards Amora and Skurge. Then he started chanting, voice gone deep and and quiet, the syllables of the unfamiliar words cutting between his teeth like shards of glass.

Amora was so busy yelling at Skurge and the barrier and Loki that she didn't realise he was chanting until just before Loki called, "Thomas!"

Tom gripped tight to Loki's waist and closed his eyes against the dark green and bright gold magic crawling between his fingers and up his arms, silently dragging the blue bubble back inside himself and hoping this worked, because he had _no idea_ what he was doing or what Loki was up to.

But, as odd as it might seem, he trusted Loki. In that moment, with the current danger, he trusted Loki to keep them both safe and keep Amora and Skurge from harming them. And, judging by the widening of Amora's eyes that Tom had caught before closing his own, she knew what was happening. There had been no fear or defeat in her eyes, only anger, so Tom could even trust that his lover wasn't intent on killing his past co-conspirators, which was more than he could have said for the god a year ago.

There was a rushing of wind, the sense of something deep inside of him tugging him away from Loki, but Tom held on, burying his face against the shoulder armour hidden beneath Loki's cape and not even bothering to pray, because the only god he had any trust in any more was right in front of him.

And then, as suddenly as it had appeared, the wind was gone.

Tom chanced a glance up and found the area cleared of Amora and Skurge, including the specks of blood that had been left behind from their fall. Other humans appeared, untouched, from where they had hidden when Loki and Amora had traded fireballs.

Loki let out a breath of relief and loosened Tom's grip on him just enough to turn and face the human. He was smiling as he cupped Tom's cheek and murmured, "You never cease to surprise me, my Thomas," before pressing his mouth to Tom's, immediately forcing his tongue in the human's mouth. Tom had no interest in stopping him, only pressing closer to the god.

When Loki pulled away – smirking at the whimper Tom couldn't quite suppress – they were in their flat. "I nearly missed lunch," the god commented, his armour fading away to the human-style clothing he'd taken to wearing at Tom's request a few months after they'd got together. (Undoing Loki's Asgardian clothing had proven too much of a chore for Tom, never mind the looks he gained on the rare occasion that he went out in the world without a veil of invisibility.)

And Tom burst out laughing. Because they'd just faced down Amora and Skurge and Tom apparently had magic, and all Loki wanted was to eat at his designated time.

Tricksters.

"I was going to make spaghetti, but I suppose now we'll have to make do with a burger," Loki said, completely ignoring Tom.

Tom smothered his amusement and glanced at the clock. It was definitely too late to make Loki spaghetti if he wanted it for lunch, and it was pushing it to make hamburgers. "There's makings for a salad, if you'd rather," he suggested around a helpless burble of laughter.

Loki flashed him a smile, mischief bright in his eyes. "Oh, no," he said. "You'll need your strength if we're to work on training your magic."

"I'm not staying long. I need to get back to wor–"

"With untrained magic?" Loki wondered.

Tom frowned and considered that for a moment while Loki moved around the kitchen, pulling out everything he'd need for burgers. "I'm not taking a half day," he decided. "If you're so worried, you can come back with me." And then he remembered that he'd suggested hiding Loki under his desk for a blowjob while he worked. Not that the god would ever allow Tom to demean him in such a way.

"What?" Loki asked, clearly catching the evil little smile Tom hadn't bothered to hide.

"You can crawl under my desk and watch everyone freak out."

Loki's eyes gleamed with mischief while his mouth curled to match Tom's. "Oh, that could be fun," he agreed.

Loki did come back to work with Tom after hamburgers. And the god _did_ crawl under his desk, and then proceeded to make the most _obscene_ noises while Tom tried to keep a straight face – or at least look like he was getting some, not trying to keep from laughing. About half the office laughed or hooted while the others were torn between horror and disbelief.

Perhaps it wasn't such an average, boring day after all.


	23. Arguing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter Warnings:** Physical abuse, Loki has trust issues, head trauma, chest and stomach trauma, victim's PoV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've know what I wanted to write about on this day since Day 13: Eating Ice Cream, where it was mentioned that Loki once flipped out when Tom said, 'trust me'. This is that fight. (It's a bit one-sided.) This happens in the same universe as Day 13.  
>  **THERE IS PHYSICAL ABUSE BETWEEN TWO PEOPLE IN A RELATIONSHIP IN THIS.** It's not meant as a happy ficlet! Tread carefully.  
>  Also, this will continue into tomorrow, as that's supposed to be the 'making up' day. But, uh, this issue (as you'll recall from Day 13) never fully gets resolved, only brushed under the rug. (Which is true for far too many fights between partners.)
> 
> It's the seventh for me, and I'm going to be spending the day getting stuff ready for my mum's birthday, then taking her out for it, so I'm not sure I'll be able to post this later. So, HERE. RIDICULOUSLY EARLY FICLET THAT ENDS IN THE WORST PLACE POSSIBLE.  
> (I'll try not to be late with tomorrow's ficlet.)

"What is this?" Loki demanded.

Tom took a deep breath to keep from snapping back, silently reminding himself that Loki was used to being a prince and thought himself higher than humans and human food, and if Tom took the plate and planted it in Loki's face, it would only make things worse. "It's spaghetti bolognese. Noodles topped with a sauce made with a tomato and ground beef base. It's good."

Loki prodded the food with his fork. "It looks vile."

"It's not–" Tom clenched his teeth together and took another deep breath. "Just try it, okay? Please."

Loki scowled, but did bring a forkful to his mouth. He chewed it thoughtfully for a long moment, then swallowed and allowed, "It tastes better than it looks."

Tom sighed and relaxed back in his chair. "I told you so. Next time, just trust me. Christ." He turned to his own food and started to take a bite.

" _What did you just say?_ " Loki hissed, something in his voice making Tom's hair stand on end.

He raised his eyes to look at Loki and found the god looking absolutely murderous. He quickly set his fork down and kept his hands where Loki could see them, thinking back over his words. What had he said to set Loki off? "I said," he managed shakily, watching Loki's reaction all the while, " 'I told you so.' And to, uhm, to trust m–"

Tom didn't get to finish, because Loki's hand was clutched around his throat. "Do not think, little mortal," he hissed, face inches from Tom's, "that I owe you any _trust_ just because you share my face."

Tom shook his head, tried to gasp out, 'I don't,' but all he could manage was a strangled, "Ah doh."

Loki let out a snarl and bodily lifted Tom from his chair before flinging him across the room. It was, perhaps, to Tom's fortune that Loki had aimed him at the living room, so he landed mostly on the couch, but his head had cracked against the coffee table and he lay where he'd fallen, dazed.

"Something so _pathetic_ could never earn my _trust_ ," Loki spat, suddenly in Tom's face again.

And Tom though, rather inanely, _I only scared myself on screen because I never seen the real thing._ Because Loki – the _real_ Loki – was the most terrifying thing Tom had ever seen in his life.

His back hit a wall and he slid down it, uncertain why he was against a wall without Loki in front of him, and not really caring. Because if Loki was gone, maybe he was done. Maybe he'd punished Tom enough. Maybe Tom could just slee–

A heavy boot slammed into Tom's chest, and he gasped on a sob as everything screamed in agony. " _SAY IT!_ " Loki screamed at him.

Tom shook his head; say what?

Loki's boot slammed into his stomach and Tom retched on air and pain and he couldn't breathe.

" _ **SAY IT!**_ " Loki screamed again, leaning down and voicing his displeasure directly into Tom's ear.

Tom couldn't think, couldn't even remember what Loki wanted, why Loki was hurting him – _was_ this Loki? Maybe it was some imposter, come to kill Tom so Loki had no one left in the whole world who loved him and he'd go mad and kill _everyone_ and–

He saw the boot moving back to kick him again.

Choking on air and sobs and stomach acid, Tom finally caught on the one phrase that always made things better, the one phrase that was sure to save him: "I'm s-sorry! Sor-ry. S-s-sor..."

The boot returned peacefully to the floor and Tom tried to curl around his stomach at last, because it hurt and his chest hurt and his head hurt and _everything hurt_. Why did everything hurt?

"Thomas?" a voice whispered, gentle and close to his ear.

 _Loki,_ Tom knew. _He sounds sad. Why is he sad?_

A hand touched Tom's shoulder and he couldn't help it, he flinched away. Something popped in his chest and he choked on a scream before everything went black.

~ _To Be Continued Tomorrow_ ~


	24. Making Up Afterwards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter Warnings:** Physical abuse, Loki has trust issues, head trauma, chest and stomach trauma, victim self-blaming, your author being half asleep while writing this (and not really reading it over)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Following from yesterday's ficlet, this shows what happened after Loki's attack. I know you want to get to the fic, so I'll just shut up and let you have at while I go to bed.

He hadn't even realised he'd been asleep until he was awake enough to recognise the heavy sensation of some pretty powerful drugs. He didn't feel quite drowsy, as though he was waking the morning after knocking back a couple of sleep pills, but more like he had just taken sleep pills, sitting on the edge of sleepy, but mind too active to really pull him under. But he'd just been asleep, so did that mean he was still under the effects? Why would he still be–?

The beeping registered, even and only just at the fringe of his conscious, like a noise he'd become so familiar with that he had simply ceased to notice it.

 _Heart monitor,_ he recognised. _I'm in hospital. But why?_

He thought back over his most recent memories, but everything was foggy from the drugs. He thought he remembered making dinner for someone, but he wasn't sure _who_. He'd been single, last he remembered, and it didn't feel like a meal with his family or a friend.

 _Well, that's worrying,_ he thought, calm through the haze of drug.

He opened his eyes and it took them a moment to focus on the white ceiling, a single fluorescent light bright in the centre of the private room.

"Tom?" a voice whispered, heavy with tears and familiar as his own hand. Tom turned his head to look and found his mother sitting at the side of his bed, eyes red and wet. Next to her sat his sister, Emma, and his father stood in the corner just behind Emma, tense with anger.

Tom blinked at them. "Hello, Mum," he said, and his voice came out scratched all to hell. That was distressing. He wondered how long he'd been asleep for.

His mum let out a sob and turned to hide her face against Emma's shoulder. The relief of all three of them was nearly palpable, and he wondered about that. _What happened?_ he wanted to ask, but his eyes were getting heavy after so much time closed, so he let them shut and was drawn back down to the soothing arms of whatever drugs he was on.

~

When Tom woke the second time, he had a vague memory of the first time to hold on to. His family had been there – all except Sarah, but she lived in India, with Yakov, and airfare was not inexpensive – all worried and his mother crying. Something had clearly happened to him, something terrible, but he couldn't remember what.

He opened his eyes and looked to where his family had been before. Emma was the only one there, now, shoulders nearly as stiff as their father's had been. She was looking out the window behind her chair, the sun reflecting between the blinds and leaving lines along the far wall.

"Emma?" he whispered.

Emma jerked around, surprised. Her eyes were red, but dry, and supported by bags marking little sleep. "Tom," she breathed and smiled, but it was crooked and hurt to look at. "It's good to see you awake again."

Tom nodded. "What happened?" he asked. Because he needed to know.

Emma's smile vanished entirely, something in her eyes darkening. "We're not sure. One of your neighbours called the police, said she heard a lot of shouting and the sounds of something being thrown upstairs. By the time they got there, you were unconscious and in a bad way, and whoever had attacked you was, well, gone."

Tom frowned and tried to remember, but it was still coming up as blank. Except that making dinner bit, but he still didn't know who for. It itched at him – the person was _important_ – but he couldn't figure out who it had been. "Am I dating someone?" he asked, because that was the only explanation he could come up with.

Emma shook her head. "Not that you've told me or Sarah."

 _That means no,_ Tom knew, because he had never been one to keep something so big from his sisters. He _couldn't_ , really; they knew him too well, and he couldn't lie to save his life. "I don't know."

Emma forced that painful smile again and reached out to take his hand. "It's fine. It'll come back, or it won't. You're okay now."

"Yeah..." But Tom wasn't so certain. There'd been someone there, someone _important_. He shook his head and turned to other important matters: "What all happened? I mean–"

"How bad?" Emma translated for him, voice breaking at the end. She dropped her gaze to their joined hands, pressing her thumbs across the skin of his hand in sharp movements that showed all too clearly how much this bothered her. "You had a concussion and three cracked ribs, and you were out cold when they got there. And, well..." She glanced up at him quickly, then returned her eyes to his hand. "You looked terrible. Covered in bruises and pale as a ghost. They said you'd lost a lot of blood, but they couldn't find anything to explain it. Nothing external, nothing internal."

Unbidden, Tom thought, _Magic_. But that was impossible. Magic only existed in stories and films, in people's imaginations. Not– Not _here_.

To Emma, he said, "Thanks. For telling me."

Emma met his eyes, her own damp with unshed tears. "Do you remember any–"

"You'll be the first to know if I do," Tom promised. And then he yawned.

Emma reached one hand out and touched a button on a small remote at the head of his bed. "Sorry. I was supposed to call the nurse as soon as you woke and I didn't. Can you stay awake a bit more, do you think?"

Tom nodded. "I'll try," he agreed, and managed to do so long enough to get a quick check-over by the young woman who came bustling in with a wide smile, but then he was back into the arms of Morpheus.

~

"You're healing well," his doctor said the first time he was awake when the man visited. Tom's father was there then, stiff and unsmiling in the corner, having refusing a chair twice before Tom had given up. Usually, his father wasn't so difficult, but worry always made him a little odd, and Tom had learned long ago to pick his battles.

But what the doctor said reminded him of his certainty a couple days ago about magic explaining away his blood loss, and he couldn't help but ask, "Is that...good?"

"Oh, it's _extraordinary_!" the doctor replied, eyes bright with an honest smile. "We could probably release you now, but given your condition when you came in and the fact that you live alone–"

 _No I don't,_ came a thought, completely unbidden.

"–it was decided that we'd keep you here for a few more days, just to make sure you'd be fine on your own. I would like to see how much movement you have, of course, if you could sit up..."

Tom moved through the requested exercises, puzzling over that thought about his living situation. _Since when have I moved in with someone? And why didn't I tell anyone?_

The certainty of magical healing, the dinner made for someone, this knee-jerk reaction about him living with someone... _I'm missing something, or some **one**. It's important, I know in my **bones** it's important, but I can't–_

Nothing. The events that had led to him laying in a hospital bed were still a blank.

 _I may never know,_ he told himself, and that _hurt_. It hurt so much more than it should have, like a knife straight into his heart.

There was nothing he could do.

~

Everyone was home for the night, leaving Tom alone in his hospital bed. He had the last dredges of his dinner pushed off to one side and was flipping through the channels of the telly held near the ceiling of his room. He finally settled on a comedy of some form and lay back to watch.

He must have dozed at one point, because he couldn't remember when the comedy changed to a far more familiar film, one he'd worked on himself.

 _"TELL ME!"_ Tom shouted on screen, dressed as Loki.

And, like an echo, Tom remembered a similar voice shouting, _" **SAY IT**!"_

Everything came rushing back: Meeting Loki for the first time when the god approached him after months of stalking; trying to learn to put up with this insane man who didn't seem to understand boundaries; falling in love with Loki before he'd even realised it; their first night together, fast and passionate, but Loki's broken gaze so caring, so panicked when Tom had winced at being breeched the first time; magic healing even the most pathetic of paper cuts before Tom could notice it, because Loki wasn't sure how else to show he loved him; Loki's anger – his _rage_ – when Tom had said, 'Trust me'.

 _I told a man who'd been lied to his entire life by the people he trusted most to just blindly trust me,_ Tom realised, swallowing hard against a block in his throat. _Tom, you **idiot**. No wonder he was so mad–_

No. Loki hadn't been _mad_ , he'd been completely beyond reason. He'd lashed out because he couldn't stop himself, because he was so ruined with broken trust that the mere word made him a mindless body of seething anger and hate. And Tom had been an easy target.

And when Loki had come back to himself, when he'd realised what he'd done...

"Oh my God," Tom breathed and hid his face in his hands. "Please be okay..."

He needed to get home.

~

He was discharged the next day. Emma had come to pick him up, gently pushed him out of the way when she caught him wincing as he bent over the bag of his things he'd been packing.

"You can stay with me for a bit, you know," she said as she slipped the last of his things away and closed the bag.

Tom shook his head. "I just want to get home," he said. "Keep on, you know?"

Emma sighed and managed a worried smile. "I know. But, well, you got attacked there, and–"

"I don't remember a second of it," Tom said, a blatant lie. But he'd become much better at lying since had Loki joined his life; he knew no one would approve of their relationship, had kept Loki's existence from his family for a reason. And if Loki had left – had fled to protect Tom from himself – it would hardly matter if he told them or not.

Emma spent the entire ride looking uncertain, and had insisted on coming up with Tom when they arrived. Given the way his ribs still twinged whenever he moved, he didn't dare turn her away and let her carry his bag while he took the stairs at a depressingly slow rate.

In his flat, Emma watched his expression closely, but Tom showed no signs of remembering his attack – had already recalled all he needed to know the night before – and when she asked about it, he shrugged and said, "Nothing. I don't think I'm going to remember anything, Emma."

Emma sighed and set his bag down on the couch, where he could get to it without having to lean down too much. "Do you want me to stay, or–?"

Tom waved a hand at her. "Go home. You look like you could use sleep more than me, at this point." Which was true.

Emma smiled a bit helplessly. "Yeah, probably. But you'll be okay?"

"If I have any trouble, I'll ring someone to come round and help me out. Get some sleep." He pointed her towards the door and she let out a laugh and finally left.

Tom gave her a couple minutes before quietly calling, "Loki?"

Silence.

"Loki, please come out."

Still nothing.

Tom sighed and ran a hand over his face before picking up his bag and taking it to his bedroom to unpack.

He was halfway through unpacking when he moved too fast and his ribs reminded him they hurt. He let out a grunt and clutched a hand to them.

Without warning, Loki was at his side, eyes bright with concern and dark green magic around the hand he reached out to touch Tom.

Tom couldn't help it, he jerked back from Loki's touch. It was half a reaction to someone suddenly appearing at his side, half because his last memories of his lover were ones of violence. And for all that he was sure Loki wouldn't hurt him again – not now, not if Tom didn't say something else stupid and triggering – his body still moved like it was expecting to be hit.

And Loki looked like he'd taken a blow to the gut before vanishing again.

"Fuck," Tom hissed, hunching his shoulders forward and pressing a hand against his sore ribs. "I'm sorry. Please come back?"

Nothing. Again.

"Love, please."

Loki shimmered back into view on the far side of the room, expression like someone who'd just watched their puppy murdered. "How can you call me that?" he asked, voice broken. "After what I did?"

"A few bruises doesn't change my feelings, Loki," Tom said, tone gently chastising. He inched across the space separating them, knowing touch was always more of a comfort for Loki than words; words could be twisted, physical touch was more honest. It made him flinching away all the more terrible as a first reaction.

Loki sputtered for a moment before managing to choke out, "A few– _I almost killed you_!"

"But you didn't," Tom said simply. Just a few more steps and he could touch the god. "You stopped. And you healed me, a little bit, didn't you?"

"You would have _died_ if I hadn't–" Loki insisted.

And then Tom reached up and cupped the god's cheek, silencing Loki without a word. Loki watched him with wide eyes for a moment as Tom carefully unfolded one of the god's hands from where they'd been shoved under his armpits and brought it up to cup his own cheek. "I'm sorry," he said.

And Loki _broke_. He pulled Tom, unresisting, into a careful hug, whispering, "No, no, no, no..." as dark green magic soothed the faint ache of Tom's chest.

Tom relaxed against Loki, comfortable with the god supporting him and his magic trailing over his skin. Loki's scent was reassuring in a way that Emma and his parents' presences hadn't been, as though being with Loki was the only surety that Tom would be okay. Which seemed odd, when you considered what had led to Tom being in hospital – Loki would call him all kinds of stupid if he knew Tom felt safe with him – but that was the simple fact of his life. And, so long as he watched what he said, he knew Loki wouldn't hurt him again.

He would just had to show Loki he could be trusted through his actions, rather than his words. He could do that.

"Fool," Loki breathed against Tom's ear, and he realised he was falling asleep.

"Love you," Tom murmured in response. "Missed you."

Loki let out something that sounded almost like a sob and his magic danced against Tom's skin again. "Go to sleep, idiot," he ordered gently, and Tom let himself drop into an easy sleep.

Their love would never be easy, but Tom was sure they would manage. Somehow.


	25. Gazing Into Each Other's Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter Warnings:** Broken!Loki, character death, battlefield, angst, hurt/comfort, BAMF!Tom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Darkflowerdreaming (tumblr) requested broken!Loki, and since I was coming up with squat for this day, I took what my mind gave me for her request. So, I'm afraid to say, this eye gazing isn't nearly as romantic as I think the original challenge prompted intended... ^.^"
> 
> Since it's in the warnings, I'll soothe some certain fears here by saying Thor and Odin are the ones who die. Loki and Tom both survive.
> 
> I'M SO SORRY THIS IS SO LATE!! *shame* It's a bit of a long fill, and I spent most of today either travelling between my parents' houses or entertaining. And then, some people on tumblr – who shall remain nameless, though there were a couple of you, so share the blame – wouldn't stop reblogging things. *stare* ~~I have problems with leaving tumblr alone when I have new posts to look at. Partially my fault. I blame you people anyway.~~ I finally just closed my browser and turned off my mobile so twitter/email notifications wouldn't distract me.  
>  Because of how long this took me to finish, I didn't bother looking it over for mistakes. I apologise in advance for my shoddy attempts at writing in my native tongue. *shame*

He'd been living with Thomas for almost two years when the request came. They had been out in the city they were in for filming, seeing the sights (Thomas) and leaving mischief in their wake (Loki), when Muninn had landed easily on Loki's shoulder. Thomas let out a noise of surprise at the sudden appearance of what appeared to be a tamed raven. Loki, for his part, made no outward sign of his surprise at the raven's appearance, though it had been unexpected. (After he had moved in with Thomas, Odin made no motions towards contacting him, apparently pleased to let Loki do as he would under the guidance of the mortal who shared his visage.)

Muninn cocked his head, glancing between the two men as though to ensure he'd chosen the correct one, then pressed his beak into Loki's ear and whispered his message: "War has been declared; you are requested in Asgard so your skills might ease the battle."

"With whom?" Loki asked, frowning. He had not even known his home was looking at the possibility of a war. And for Odin to request his presence meant they were facing an enemy with sorcerers at their disposal.

"Svartálfaheim," Muninn whispered.

 _Ah,_ he thought. _I had forgotten that treaty would be ending so soon. But would the Svartálfar not have preferred to renew? Have the Dvergar finally convinced them they would be better putting an end to Asgard?_

"Loki?" Thomas called, worried. "What's wrong?"

Loki blinked at the mortal. "The treaty with Svartálfaheim has come to an end, and it seems the dwarves have finally managed to keep the dark elves from signing a new one. Asgard is at war."

Understanding and sorrow darkened Thomas' eyes. "You have to return to Asgard," he said, not needing to ask. It would always amaze Loki, just a little bit, how easily his mortal read him. (Sometimes, when Thomas stopped his mischief, Loki really hated the mortal's ability to read him, but he liked knowing he couldn't hide from his lover far more often than not.)

"I appears so," Loki agreed before turning to Muninn. "I shall follow within the day."

Muninn inclined his head, then took off.

Thomas slipped his hand into Loki's and asked, "Back to the hotel?"

"I think that might be best."

Thomas smiled and they set off without another word.

~

As soon as Loki arrived in Asgard, he was set to work. Too much of the war was taking place on Asgardian soil, and he was needed to fortify the protections of the city before rushing out to the battlefields to act as a counter to magical attacks and a field healer. The latter two roles were ones he was well-familiar with, having grown up amongst a people inclined towards battle. He was plenty capable as a warrior on the field, but his skill set made him more valuable as a sorcerer and healer than a warrior. In his youth, he had chaffed at what he'd believed to be a sign that he was the lesser son, but age had taught him there was value in every role on the battlefield.

For most of the following days in the field, he was kept nearer the back, where the wounded were brought and the other sorcerers and sorceresses gathered to defend as a group against magical attack. However, one afternoon, a call came for him to join the northern front. He made haste and found Thor there, covered head to toe in blood not his own and wearing Odin's helmet.

"Father is dead," Thor said without preamble, expression grim. "It was a sorcerer that took him, and I have none of your or his skill in facing such magic."

"You intend to avenge him?" Loki asked, for once not arguing Odin's claim to parenthood over him; one did not debate the words of the dead unless they travelled to the land in which they rested and did so to their face.

"I do, and with you at my side. It is your _right_ , Loki," Thor insisted.

Loki stared at his king – for Thor now was king of Asgard, and Loki was ever a subject of the Eternal Realm, no matter his true parentage – until Thor looked away, expression wounded. Then he said, "Lead on, then, Brother."

Thor's grim expression lightened slightly and he clapped a hand on Loki's shoulder. "Together, Brother," he said, and pulled Loki along until he walked easily at the thunderer's side, rather than behind him, as had always been his preference. This was Thor's way of saying, 'Not in my shadow, but as my equal,' Loki knew, and he was torn between hating and loving him for it.

The battle, when they found it, was not an easy one. The sorcerer who had finished Odin Allfather was accompanied by two talented swordsmen. Thor seemed to have no concern in facing them – he never thought he might have met his match – and Loki was too busy trading magical attacks with the sorcerer to bother watching out for his king.

While the enemy sorcerer was talented, he was not anywhere near Loki's level. Or, well, he wouldn't have been, had Loki been fresh. But he'd spent the last two weeks shoring up magical fortifications and assisting on the field, and he was tiring. His enemy was nearly fresh, likely having been kept in reserve for the moment when Odin would let down his guard enough to strike the decisive blow. So his opponent was on par with Loki, magic-wise, possibly even just the slightest bit more capable. Or he would have been more capable, had Loki not had one advantage that few knew of: his Jötun heritage.

At Thomas' prompting, Loki had been practising with his birthright, learning to wield it for mischief, usually, but also in a fight just such as this. And now, when his enemy believed Loki to be defeated – his magical reserves too low for any further spellwork beyond his favoured tricks of deception, which would only draw out his end, as they both knew – and let down his guard, Loki closed his eyes and called to the ice held deep within his soul. He heard the ragged gasp as blue bled over his features, and then the choked cry as ice stabbed up from the ground that had frozen around Loki to pierce his enemy's heart.

Proving again his worth, Thomas had saved Loki before he even knew it would be needed.

Loki turned his attention to Thor in time to see one of his enemies land a mortal blow to Asgard's king as he finished off the other. Something caught in Loki's chest as Thor fell to his knees, Mjölnir falling to the blood-covered ground as he clasped both hands over the wound.

"So weak," the final enemy said, his voice just barely carrying over an odd roaring sound that filled Loki's ears. "I'll be doing Asgard a favour, killing their new king." And then he swung his sword to remove Thor's head.

Loki didn't even realised he'd moved until his frozen hand was buried in the man's chest, clenched tight around his heart. He tore it out and the man crumpled to the ground with a gurgle, blood melting through the hole made without thought through both armour and skin.

Loki turned to Thor, then, their enemy's heart falling thoughtlessly from his grasp. He caught Thor as he tilted to one side, pressed one blue hand to where Thor's covered his wounds and tried to will it to freeze over enough to get him to a healer, to save him, because Loki couldn't just sit back and watch his brother _die_. Not now, not like this.

"Loki, Loki, no," Thor breathed out, lips smiling under heavy eyes. He reached up a hand covered in his own blood and pressed it to Loki's cheek. "It's okay. Let me go."

Loki shook his head, unable to get out any words through the chant of, "Brother, Brother, Brother," that he hadn't noticed begin falling from his lips.

Thor's smile just widened. "No more shadows, my king," he said before his hand fell from Loki's cheek, eyes dulling with death.

A howl of anguish cut through the battlefield, and Loki curled around his brother's body.

It took him a while to realise that the howl was him and force his mouth closed over the noise.

Around him, the battles died away, and he didn't realise why until a voice distorted by something solid blocking it asked, "Loki?"

"Go away," he rasped out, then clenched his teeth shut over the howl still tickling the back of his throat. His skin still blue with the mark of his heritage, was it any surprise such animalistic reactions would claw at him?

"My pr– king," the voice said, stumbling over the word, and Loki flinched away from it, curling tighter around Thor, "you need to let us in."

 _Let them in?_ Loki uncurled his body and looked up to find that ice had grown up to surround himself and Thor, thick enough that he could barely make out the colours of armour on the other side. He'd been cut off from the world, let alone with his grief and a burden he didn't want. _**King**. I am king of Asgard._

He flinched again, trying to escape the thought, but it followed him and he couldn't–

_**NO!** _

Lightning crackled around him and Loki had taken Mjölnir in hand before he could fully think about it and used what magic lay in the hammer to allow him to slip into the branches of Yggdrasil, which he then followed to the only place he felt safe.

~

Thomas was curled up on the couch when Loki finally tumbled through the hole he'd created long ago in their living room. He jerked in surprise, then jumped to his feet with a gasp of, " _Loki_!" and dashed to Loki's side.

Thomas stopped just shy of touching him – likely afraid the drying blood staining his armour was his own and unwilling to hurt him further – but Loki had no such compunctions and fell into Thomas' welcoming arms, curling against his chest and finally letting fall the sobs that had begun plaguing him once the urge to howl and scream had faded.

"Loki, my love, what has happened?" Thomas whispered, but he didn't seem to expect a response as he began rocking them side-to-side, murmuring, "I love you. You're safe now. I'll keep you safe. It's okay."

And it was a lie, all a lie, because Thomas couldn't protect Loki against anything that might be chasing him, and it wasn't okay, it would _never_ be okay, and didn't Thomas know that?

"I've got you," Thomas said, and that was truthful, at least. "I'm here, I've got you."

Loki closed his eyes and let himself fall into the reaching abyss, secure in the knowledge that Thomas was there. Because maybe it wasn't okay, maybe Thomas was no protection from Loki's enemies, but Loki didn't need protection, he just needed to be held and loved without question, and that much, Thomas could always provide.

~

He woke to the comfort of a familiar bed. Thomas' side was still warm, but quite empty, and Loki blinked a bit dumbly at it. Thomas had never managed to leave their bed without waking him in the past, and Loki hadn't thought it would ever be possible. Not unless Loki was so magically exhausted that he couldn't even make it into the bed on his–

_Oh. Thor's dead._

Grief slammed into him like a meteor, and Loki turned over until he could bury his face in Thomas' pillows and breath in his scent, as though his mere smell might bestow his easy calm upon Loki's shredded heart. Everything had fallen to pieces around him, and the only thing Loki had left was this foolish mortal.

 _Where's Thomas?_ he wondered, and the grief was pushed away by that question. Thomas had said he 'had' Loki, and did that not mean he would remain with him until he was sure Loki was well? He'd clearly been sleeping next to him, and he can't have been gone long.

Loki became aware, then, of voices in the main room of the flat. It was quite telling that such had evaded his notice for so long; he was _extremely_ tired. _Or you really do feel safe here,_ his mind helpfully suggested and Loki scoffed at the thought even as he climbed out of the bed and moved on trembling legs to the bedroom doorway, interested to know who Thomas conversed with.

"–back to Asgard," a familiar feminine voice said, and Loki tensed at hearing who he _knew_ to be Sif, and not her human counterpart.

"No," said Thomas, voice firm and unyielding.

"It is his duty as ki–"

"No," Thomas said again.

"Mortal, you do not underst–"

"You can leave now."

"–and the gravity of the sit–"

"Oh, I understand," Thomas said, voice icy, and Volstagg finally shut up at that tone. "You said the war that Loki was called back to Asgard for is coming to a close. Sounds to me like he can come home."

"Yes," said Sif, sounding relieved. "He needs to come home so–"

"He is home."

The was an extended silence from however many Æsir had come to Thomas and Loki's flat, and Loki loved Thomas so much for being able to shut them up so easily.

Finally, Thomas sighed. "He's staying here until he _wants_ to go back to Asgard. And nothing you four can say will change that. Are the Nine Realms going to fall to pieces if he doesn't return _right this minute_?"

"...no..." Sif admitted.

"Then you need to leave."

"He is our king and he is need–"

"The _last_ time he was your king, you betrayed him," Thomas snapped, and there was no ice in his anger this time, only fire so hot it _burned_.

"He stole that throne!" Sif snapped.

"I really don't care," Thomas returned, words still heated with fury, "how he won the throne either time, and I don't much care that he supposedly has it right now. If his absence isn't going to throw the Nine Realms into chaos – which, if we're all being honest here, is probably more likely while he's _on_ the throne – then he stays _here_. Now, I am respectfully asking you to _leave_. For the last time."

"And if we don't?" Volstagg challenged.

"I stop being respectful."

Fandral let out an obnoxious laugh. "And what does a mere _mortal_ think he can do against _us_?"

"This 'mere mortal' has been living with the God of Mischief for the last two years."

There was a shuffle of feet out in the landing in front of the door of their flat. "We'll be back, Midgardian," Sif said, tone threatening.

"I'll make sure to set up the welcoming committee," Thomas replied, obnoxiously cheerful. And if that wasn't a threat, Loki didn't know what was.

The front door fell closed and the bolt slid home before Thomas let out a tired sigh. "Fuck," he whispered, just loud enough for Loki to hear.

Loki crept around the mostly closed bedroom door and took in the sight of Thomas, leaning back against the front door, rubbing a hand over his face. His hair looked as though he'd been running his hands through it in agitation, and the trousers hanging low on his hips had clearly been thrown on in a hurry. He looked tired and worn around the edges, and Loki didn't have to ask to know it was his fault.

"Thomas?" he called softly.

Thomas' head came up so fast it was a wonder he didn't get whiplash. Concern twisted his expression and he pushed away from the door and hurried around strategically placed furniture to get to Loki. "Hey," he said as he reached the god and gently cupped Loki's cheek with one hand. "You should be in bed."

"I am not _ill_ ," Loki snarled, remembering well the only time he had caught the Midgardian 'cold' and spent a week being absolutely miserable, Thomas constantly ordering him back to bed.

Thomas' other hand rested gently over Loki's heart as he locked eyes with the god. "There are many kinds of illness, Loki," he said was a quiet certainty that shattered the cloak of anger Loki had hastily drawn around himself as a strength. He slouched and Thomas wasted no time before pulling him forward, against his chest. "I've got you," he said and Loki reached out with his hands to clutch at the human.

Thomas' heart beat steadily under Loki's ear, and it drew the haunting memory of Thor's body, silent in Loki's grief. He pressed tighter against the human, and Thomas didn't complain, only tightened his arms around Loki.

"I don't want to be king," Loki whispered, the last word ending on a sob.

"I know," Thomas whispered back, and Loki knew he did.

"I don't..." Loki closed his mouth on the words, then closed his eyes and admitted, "I don't want to go back."

"Then don't," Thomas said, so simple and unconcerned.

"They'll come back."

Thomas snorted a laugh. "Loki, the only person who has _ever_ been able to make you do something you didn't want to do is _you_."

It was very much true, though there were those who could talk Loki around: Thor, Odin, Frigga, Thomas... Two were dead, one had to remain in Asgard in his absence, and the last...

"Let's get you back to bed," Thomas said.

The last wasn't of the mind to talk him into anything.

~

Sif and the Warriors Three returned a week later. Thomas had booby-trapped the landing outside their flat with Loki's help and they both listened from the couch as the four Æsir cursed in the hallway for a good ten minutes before leaving without ever reaching their door.

Thomas brushed his fingers through Loki's hair, voice amused as he said, "I don't think they'll be back."

"Until something endangers the Nine Realms," Loki said, voice bland. He'd allowed himself to feel very little emotion since he'd returned. Thomas had kept him distracted with films from his collection and stories about his family and friends that he'd gathered during Loki's time away. There had been no mention of Thomas' work, and Loki suspected the human had requested some holiday time while he'd been sleeping the first time.

Thomas shrugged at Loki's words. "So you leave with them, take care of it, then come home. Preferably without them."

Loki's mouth quirked against his will and Thomas' chest shook with silent humour at his back. "I think I can manage that," he said drily and Thomas' laughter filled the room.

~

Another week passed and Loki could finally think about his brother's death without feeling like he either wanted to scream or cry. He stopped keeping such a tight rein on his emotions, and Thomas managed to draw quite a few laughs from him.

After another week, Loki stopped hiding at all, and it was as though he'd never left. As though Thor wasn't dead and Loki owner of a kingship he'd never wanted.

One evening, curled up on the couch as another film's credits ran, Loki said, "I don't want it."

Thomas raised an eyebrow at him. "Want what?"

"The throne."

"I know," Thomas said, as simply as he had the first time.

"But there's no one else," Loki said.

Thomas was silent for a long moment, then he shifted until he could see Loki's face. "There's always someone else willing to take a throne, or you would have no one to rule," he pointed out logically. "Could your mother not take it?"

Loki shook his head. "She is a woman."

"Well, that's stupid."

Loki huffed out a laugh. "I don't make the laws."

"You do now."

Loki jerked his head up so he could see the human leaning over him. The blue-green eyes were steady with a hint of amusement. "I do," he said, oddly surprised.

"So I'll ask again, 'Could Frigga not take the throne?' You trust her, and the Æsir already love her more than enough to follow her without complaint."

Loki shook his head. "Her magic isn't strong enough," he said, and his heart was sinking. "The ruler has to be able to sustain Asgard. Odin had his magic, Thor Mjölnir's." He looked to where the hammer rested innocently next to the television, where Thomas had set it after getting Loki to bed. With Odin and Thor both dead, the geas decreeing worth had vanished, and now anyone could use the fabled weapon. It hurt Loki to look at it, and he swallowed before looking back up at Thomas' gaze, grim with a fact that Loki didn't even need to voice for the mortal to know. "I can't sustain Asgard from Midgard."

"I know," Thomas admitted, and closed his eyes. "I've known since Sif said you were the king."

Three weeks, and the mortal hadn't once tried to remind Loki of his duty.

He sat up and rubbed at his eyes. "I need to go back," he said.

"I know," Thomas repeated, quiet to hide how much the words hurt him.

"Come with me?" Loki requested, _pleaded_. Because he couldn't face Asgard alone, not now, not ever.

"Loki, you know I can't just leave everyo–"

"You said you'd keep me safe!" Loki spat, turning to glare at the human. "How can you do that from another realm?!" Three weeks ago, Loki had thought Thomas had lied to say he would keep Loki safe and that it would be okay. But then the mortal had faced down Sif and the Warriors Three, had let Loki work through his grief and sudden duty on his own, had supported him by never leaving his side.

Thomas hadn't lied.

Thomas stared at him with a blank expression.

Loki turned away, biting back against the sob climbing his chest as he saw the last thing he had slipping away. "Fine," he snapped. "F–"

"Okay," Thomas interrupted.

Loki froze, half off the couch, his anger gone before he could even hope to hold it around the crumbling remains of his heart.

Thomas moved until he was crouched in front of Loki, apology and love warring in his blue-green eyes. "I'm coming. Give me time to call my family to say goodbye?"

And then Loki understood: Thomas hadn't been saying no, he'd been choosing between Loki and his mortal family.

Loki had won.

Thomas' hands cupped Loki's face. "Loki?"

Loki smiled like he'd never discovered he was a Jötun, fallen through the Void, and watched his brother die.

For the first time in almost a decade, staring into blue-green eyes set in a face that was a mirror of his own, he felt whole.


	26. Getting Married

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter Warnings:** Fuck gender roles, Loki's a little shit, Tom's an angel (with horns)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the day that everyone and their great-aunt has apparently been waiting for, going by the number of you that have been counting down the days. XP (Personally, I'm excited for the last day. But that's just because I know what I have planned. No, my darlings, you cannot, in fact, bribe me to tell you. It's a surprise.)  
> Today's prompt does follow _Day 15: In a Different Clothing Style_. So we're getting married in Asgard. I did actual research on Nordic marriage customs – figure that's as close to 'Asgardian' as anyone here can claim – and found [this awesome resource](http://www.vikinganswerlady.com/wedding.shtml). Lots of super awesome and interesting information on there.  
>  I'm basing this wedding on the information I found on that site, with some tweaks on account of the fact that this involves two males, not a male and a female. (We're not going to talk about how much of a headache this gave me. XP)
> 
> My Jötun lore is crud. Made bloody everything up, hence the reason I don't got into greater detail.
> 
> And, again, sorry for the late update. (Though it's not _quite_ as bad as yesterday, so, bonus points? ^.^") This prompt and I didn't get along, for various reasons. I kept writing scenes, realising they didn't work, then deleting them and writing something new. It was time consuming.  
>  Also, no re-read. So for any and all mistakes. Beh.

Homosexual marriages weren't unheard of in Asgard – politics occasionally demanded the binding of two families that had only daughters or only sons, and easy the acceptance of concubines of both genders solved concerns over heirs – but marrying for love was odd even to heterosexual practices, and unheard of in a marriage like Thomas and Loki.

More than the uncertainties of a homosexual marriage bound by love, there was Thomas' status as a mortal to consider. It was the practice in Asgard for the families of the betrothed to meet and discuss terms, but Thomas' family could not come to Asgard, and Odin had no interest in travelling to Midgard to speak with a group of mortals.

In the end, Thor offered to act as Thomas' advocate. Loki maintained a degree of uncertainty – the reason a member of the prospective groom's family was preferred was that they would show preference to their son or brother – for Thor was _his_ brother, not Thomas'. Thomas and Thor both seemed of the mind that Thor would manage without prejudice, however, and with them both in agreement, Loki let it be.

He really shouldn't have worried, in retrospect. Thor argued Thomas' side with only faltering once under Odin's stare, and Thomas had easily come to his aid by getting Frigga on their side. They managed to agree, after some debate, that Thomas and Loki would return to Midgard after the wedding – visiting Asgard as they pleased or in a time of need – so Thomas wouldn't be forced to simply up and leave his family and friends, never to be seen again. Thomas would provide for them both in Midgard, and it would become Loki's duty to provide for them once they eventually returned to Asgard to live out the rest of their lives; one of Idunn's golden apples was a part of the ceremony, ensuring that Thomas would age and be as hardy as Loki.

Odin had tried setting down some rules for future transgressions, should Loki continue to talk his way into trouble, that would see Thomas dealt a share of Loki's punishment. Loki had immediately insisted that was not in his interest and would Odin kindly piss off if he was just looking for an additional scapegoat.

Thomas, ignoring Thor's attempts to hush him, had put for the counter-offer that he would receive the entirety of any punishments dealt to Loki, and Odin leave any 'punishment' of Loki to him. Odin had agreed over Thor's attempt to take Thomas' offer back, and they'd had to take an hour-long break because Loki had stormed off in a huff.

On one hand hand, Thomas had pretty much managed to force him into behaving for the rest of their lives together, and Loki had to bow to that genius. On the other hand, Loki was going to kill his betrothed for putting himself in danger.

The only other matter debated during their dealings that left a sour taste in Loki's mouth was his mother's insistence that the two of them retain separate rooms until the wedding.

"There is hardly a need for chastity now, Mother," Loki had commented drily.

Frigga had raised an eyebrow at him and replied, "So long as you're getting married in my house, you're sleeping in separate rooms. Don't make me set up wards, Loki."

"We'll manage," Thomas interrupted while Loki was still trying to figure out which biting response would be least likely to insult his mother, yet still inform her why she was being stupid.

For the first time in ages, Loki went to bed alone. He slept poorly and probably would have been an absolute nightmare to everyone all day, but Thomas caught him as soon as he stepped out of his room and managed to get Loki to agree to a tour through the city. They spent the day walking through the city Loki had grown up in, hands laced together. Thomas' presence had calmed Loki enough that by the time they met up with the rest of the royal family and the varied nobles for the evening feast, Loki sent no more than a disgruntled glare towards his mother.

Three more nights passed in the same sleepless fashion, and the three mornings always found Thomas waiting for him with a bright smile and a request that got them out of the palace for the day. By the time they returned in the evening, Loki would have calmed so much that he could only just manage a disgruntled glare for Frigga.

(Later, after he and Thomas were safely back in their flat in London, Loki would look back on the week with amusement at the way Odin's disconcertion grew daily. It was no secret to the servants who brought his breakfast that Loki was in the darkest of moods in the mornings, but there was no mischief made to ease his fury, and Odin spent the whole time waiting for the explosion. Loki wondered how many centuries it would take him to realise that, so long as Thomas loved Loki without question and refused to give up on him, Loki would find comfort in his presence.)

The night before the day of the wedding, Frigga sent Loki, Thomas, and Thor all off to bed with a potion meant to grant them a full night's rest. Loki considered not taking it, just to be difficult, but Thomas had caught him in the hallway their three rooms were on and used a kiss to transfer his own potion into Loki's mouth, then took Loki's bottle and sauntered into his own room.

Thor laughed from the doorway of his bedroom and Loki huffed a bit as he closed himself in his own room. There, he allowed himself a fond smile for his human's trickery as he readied for bed. His sleep was untroubled, and he woke in a far better temperament than he had in the days previous. After this day, none would have cause to separate him from Thomas again, and he was assured of the mortal's extended life. As heart-stopping as their first moments in Asgard had been, and as trying as the days since had seemed, it would all be worth it.

When Loki finally emerged from his room, it was not Thomas who awaited him, but Odin. Loki would have preferred Thor's accompaniment on this journey, but Thor was continuing to assist Thomas. And, as much as Loki didn't want to spend much of the day with the Allfather, he wished Odin even less on his betrothed.

And so, when he met Odin's single-eyed stare, he inclined his head politely and murmured, "Allfather."

"My son," Odin responded, and Loki had to bite his cheek to keep from responding.

They left together in peace, headed for the site when Odin's own father, Bor, had lain down to die. It was a journey Loki had made once before, the day of his wedding to Sigyn, one brokered to form an alliance with her people. His certain death upon falling from the Bifröst had allowed her to sever her ties, though keep the alliance in place. She had done so – there had been no love in the marriage, as hard as Sigyn had tried, and Loki had been grateful, upon his return, to discover himself single again. Given the current circumstances, he was even more grateful.

Upon arrival at Bor's gravesite, Loki found an unexpected sight: The familiar, heavy blade that Odin's sire had wielded sat next to a pale blue sword upon the mound that usually held only the one. Loki stopped before the two blades, uncertain, then looked back to where Odin had stopped behind him. "What is this?" he asked.

Odin cleared his throat. "You are aware of your heritage. It would be improper of me to not offer you the chance to choose."

Loki set his jaw and turned back to the overfull mound. His gut reaction was to grab for Bor's heavy sword, for he would always despise the Jötun blood that ran through his veins. Still, Thomas had never spoken against his Jötun heritage – had encouraged Loki to learn of it whatever he was comfortable with – and if Loki knew one thing of Bor's sword, it was that it was nightmarishly heavy. Thomas would have to hold the sword for at least a part of the ceremony, and he wouldn't be given a golden apple to augment his strength until the feast. Sigyn had barely managed, Thomas would not.

Loki took the hilt of the ice sword – and it was made of ice, he could sense, with spells woven into the very molecules to hold it in its frozen shape – and pulled it easily from the mound. Where Bor's sword had felt too heavy and unwieldy when he'd held it, this sword was light, and rather like an old friend met after some untold time apart.

"You know of the crimes of your forbearers," Odin said evenly from behind him, no note of pleasure or disapproval at Loki's choice in his voice or – when Loki turned to look at him – his expression. "Now it is, perhaps, time you learned of the good in them."

Loki couldn't help but scoff. Jötun? _Good_?

Odin raised an eyebrow at the younger god. "Jötun are as capable of kindness as Æsir, just as Æsir are capable of cruelty equal to Jötun. All people of the Nine Realms are both good and evil, peaceful and violent, and as deserving to live as any other." He let out a breath of a sigh. "Your betrothed was correct in that I should have spoken sooner of the good of Jötun. This is my failing, and I would see it corrected."

Loki snorted and settled himself on the ground, sword held across his knees in an easy manner that he would never have managed with another blade. Perhaps, had he been taught using this sword, instead of the iron and steel sticks they favoured in the training yards, he might have been more willing to pick up a 'true weapon', rather than turning to the hidden knives that were frowned upon in battle.

_Ah, but if wishes were horses, my herd would fly. Or however that saying goes._

Odin settled in across from Loki, imposing even while seated cross-legged upon the dirt. Asgard's king then spent nearly two hours speaking of those Jötun he'd fought in battle with as brothers-in-arms during his youth, before their attack on Midgard. He spoke of how they treasured those creatures that could survive the frozen expanse of their world, especially those children considered too weak to survive, and yet who did.

Odin spoke of honour amongst brothers, something Loki would never have thought his blood kin capable of, and how their marriages were ones of love, not politics. He spoke of mercy killings dealt to enemies and friends alike on the field of battle, and to crying over fallen warriors with whom they shared some attachment.

Odin spoke of Laufey, whom he had known before he'd taken the throne of the ice world and become greedy. He had been a glory on the field – something any Áss would see glory in – but he'd also been particularly clever and devious, able to spot weaknesses in an enemy's defence quicker than many of Asgard's best.

He spoke, finally, of those traditions he knew. He mentioned that Jötun did not exchange rings upon sword hilts in their weddings, but flowers found out in the snow and the marks of marriage upon their skin.

Loki pulled out the ring he intended to gift to Thomas as Odin moved on to the traditions of family, considering the plain band. It was the same one he'd once given Sigyn, resized to fit Thomas' finger. There were runes carved on the inside of the ring, blessing the union.

Loki remembered the bouquet of flowers he'd once got Thomas as an apology, stumbling over mortal customs for the millionth time because he honestly wanted to _try_ and make their relationship work. Thomas had laughed and said, "Flowers are something you get a woman, Loki." But he'd still held them close as he hunted down a vase to put them in and carefully set them out on the coffee table, smiling whenever he saw them over the following weeks, even after they'd begun to wilt and Loki would have long ago binned them.

He thought of flowers and tradition and acceptance, the ring a bland circle against the pale blue of the sword in his lap.

During their ride back to the city, Loki chanted a spell under his breath, and a glimmer of pale blue flowers bled over the blank face of the ring, their stems twining together in a pattern he'd observed on his chest, the one time he'd dared observe his Jötun form in a mirror. (He'd then proceeded to shatter the mirror in a rush of rage, accidentally setting Thomas into a panic. It had been the first time Thomas had seen his Jötun form, and the human had been too concerned about cleaning up glass before Loki hurt himself on it to care that his lover was blue. Not that Thomas had ever seemed to care what colour Loki's skin was, so long as Loki was comfortable.)

If Odin noticed the magic, he made no mention of it. And when he accepted Loki's things in the bath house so the prince could bathe, he made no comment about the changes to the ring, though Loki caught him looking at it curiously.

For the ceremony, Loki dressed in the ceremonial armour he had often worn before his fall, and not touched since. He had performed some subtle changes to it, turning the brown of the fabric black, and making what of the unwieldy armour was silver, gold. His cape, he left as was, a heavy comfort at his back and whispering against the frozen sword sheathed at his side.

The ceremony was held on a hill just outside the city, where all weddings were performed. The guest list had been limited, given how few people cared for Loki or knew anything of Thomas, and that suited both fine, as they'd discussed during one of their trips outside the city. Odin left Loki at the bottom of the hill and climbed it to stand with Frigga, both presiding over the ceremony as the rulers of Asgard.

Loki remained where he was for Thomas, resigned that the mortal would take time to get into whatever garb he and Thor had eventually agreed upon. Loki had thought, at the beginning, to coax Thomas into telling him what to expect of the clothing the mortal would be wearing, or what ring he'd chosen – with Thor as his assistant, there were an infinite number of choices – but Thomas held quite firmly to the Midgardian tradition that those being wed not see anything of the other's clothing before the ceremony – and he'd included the ring in that, the idiot – so Loki had been left to wonder. (If he had to guess, Loki thought the mortal had refused to tell him anything just because he could.)

When Thomas arrived, he came dressed in, dark grey trousers and a light grey leather jacket half-closed over a shirt the same shade of blue that Loki had chosen for the mortal's arrival in Asgard. It looked very medieval-Midgardian, but for the gold chest ornament he wore under the jacket, bright against the blue of his shirt. Instead of the customary sword, Thomas carried a magical sceptre, in obvious deference to Loki's preference for magic over brawn.

Thor trailed behind Thomas, dressed in his formal court clothing and holding the bowl and fern branch that would be used to bless them. He raised an eyebrow at the pale sword at Loki's side, and the younger prince shrugged and nodded up the hill, towards Odin and Frigga. Thor let out a quiet sigh, then started up the hill, leaving Thomas and Loki to stand next to each other at the bottom.

Thomas reached out with his free hand and brushed his fingers along a patch of un-armoured fabric along his arm. "Ready?" he asked quietly.

Loki glanced at him, taking it the tremor of nerves he was largely managing to hide. "If this is not to your preference–" he started.

Thomas choked on a laugh and shook his head as he slipped his hand into Loki's. "No, my love, this is fine. This is _wonderful_ , though unfamiliar." He squeezed Loki's hand. "You're shaking."

"Then it makes two of us," Loki replied drily and Thomas' eyes danced to a laugh he managed to keep silenced. "Come."

They climbed the hill together and came to a stop in front of the array of royal family. Around them stood those few who had shown interest in attending: some dozen of Loki's contacts in the city who hadn't forsaken him for his crimes, the Warriors Three and Lady Sif, a couple nobles who had discovered Thomas of interest, or wished to attend only so they might laugh tell tales later.

Thor was the one to perform the blessing with the fir branch, passing it in front of them in a practised motion and sprinkling them with the liquid from the bowl. The liquid in the bowl, while traditionally the blood of the animal they would share at the feast following, had been changed to water drawn from a nearby spring, at Thomas' request. Odin had been the only one to make complaint about that change, but with everyone else around the table backing Thomas, he'd gracefully bowed to the request.

Sprinkled with water, Thomas and Loki finally turned to each other. Loki felt a welling of concern in his belly, for most of Asgard had no knowledge of his true heritage, and he had interest in keeping it that way, but presenting this sword as a symbol of his ancestors was so very telling. Unless...

Loki drew the sword and met Thomas' steady gaze, ignoring the unsubtle noises of surprise from their audience. "Father," he said, not tripping over the word as much as he might have, before the hours spent by Bor's grave, "told me today of a race that he once called brother, before one who was overly greedy thought to take what wasn't his and began a war that would end only in hatred. Father had thought to broker peace with that race, once, but events have since disallowed such.

"I, unknowingly mirroring that greedy king, first took a throne, then thought to take a world. Your world. But you, inexplicable in every way, accepted me before I would even attempt to make amends. You let me into your home and heart without a thought otherwise, and that has shown me the errors of my youth in a way nothing Father ever tried could.

"I don't offer you the history of war, but the history of brotherhood, of peace. I would see this binding be as much about showing my people that there are others out there worthy of our friendship, as it is about the love we share for each other."

Loki held out the sword to Thomas at last. There was gratitude and love in Thomas' bright eyes, but also pride, and it was the last, rather than the first two, that made Loki want to grin, wide and carefree. He didn't, but he suspected that Thomas knew he struggled to contain it.

Thomas carefully held the sword with at his side while he held forth the sceptre. "I'm afraid," he said wryly, "that I don't have any swords of my ancestors to pass along to you, but I do have my love and my acceptance of everything you are. Sorcerer and trickster both."

Loki was wary as he accepted the sceptre, half expecting it to prank him in some way, with Thomas' words, but nothing occurred and he relaxed enough to look it over. There was a suspicious give to part of the decorations, and he pressed it, curious. The bottom of the sceptre immediately lengthened and developed a rather deadly tip, stabbing easily through the dirt. Loki raised an intrigued eyebrow and pressed another button on the other side from the first, retracting the end and hidden blade.

Oh, he liked this sceptre already.

He finally returned his attention to Thomas and allowed a pleased smile, when caused a wide grin to crawl across Thomas' face. Loki pulled out the ring and carefully balanced it on his new sceptre before holding it out to Thomas. Thomas accepted it and slipped it on, then set his ring on the sceptre and turned it back to Loki.

Loki took a moment to look the ring over as he slipped it on: It was a simple, gold band, inscribed with the traditional marriage runes on the inside. The outer face, however, had a thin green line through the centre, and it was only when he turned it slightly that he realised it was, in fact, a serpent eating its tail. The ouroboros, a symbol of re-creation.

They joined their hands over the sceptre, rings clinking, and traded traditional Midgardian vows; they had agreed that they didn't need to proclaim, before witnesses that may or may not have their best interests at heart, all that they were to each other. Such words were better left for in private, such as when they could finally curl together in bed again.

When the vows were said, Odin called out, "we may now retire to the feast."

Everyone turned at once and started down the hill, intent on not being the last back to the hall, for they would then be required to serve the mead to everyone else.

Loki and Thomas, however, remained on the hill, Thomas examining the pale sword. When everyone else had left, Thomas asked, "Was this Laufey's?"

Loki's jaw tightened momentarily, a reflexive action to his blood father's name. "Odin did not say."

"Am I allowed to ask him?"

"You may do as you please. So far as I'm concerned, the sword is yours."

Thomas smiled and wrapped the arm not holding the sword around Loki's waist. "If we wait much longer, we'll be last."

Loki snorted. "No, we won't," he disagreed, but teleported them all the same.

They were the first to arrive and slipped into their designated seats without discussion. Thomas set the sword carefully against the side of his chair, then turned his attention to the ring he now wore. "Still not a woman, Loki," he teased.

Loki shifted. "Odin said Jötun trade flowers, rather than rings," he admitted.

Thomas smiled and kissed his cheek. Loki quickly turned and caught the human's mouth with his, reaching up and tangling one hand in Thomas' short hair.

"There'll be time enough for that later," Thor interrupted as he slid into the open seat at Thomas' side, hair wind-blown from flying with Mjölnir.

"Oh, there's time enough for it whenever I want," Loki returned.

Thomas rolled his eyes and gently knocked his forehead against Loki's. "Whenever _we_ want, Husband," he chastised, the last word rolling easily off his tongue.

Loki's mouth curled with a gentle smile, completely against his will. "I do what I want, _Husband_ ," he said, to hide his fondness.

Thomas laughed, loud and pleased, and those just coming in through the doors startled at the sound, which just made Loki's smile turn into a smirk.

At least it was a smirk until Thomas whispered, "We _both_ do what we want," and kissed him again, hard and completely filthy.

Oh, yes, Loki saw nothing wrong in spending an eternity with Thomas.


	27. On One of Their Birthdays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter Warnings:** Tom's an angel (with horns), Loki's a little shit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But I already diiiiiiid thiiiiiis... *whines* Can I just re-post Day 4? No? *cries*

They had just finished breakfast when someone – _Or some **thing** ,_ Tom thought, _judging by the noise_ – pounded on the front door of the flat. "Can you take care of the dishes, please?" he asked Loki as he headed for the door. As long as he said 'please' when he asked, Loki would do it, but if he forgot the 'please' or just didn't mention the dishes at all, they'd be left to lie on the table all day. But Tom had always tended towards politeness, no it was no difficulty for him to add a please. Whatever made life easier.

Loki huffed, but gather the dirty plates, silverware, and mugs all the same, making a face when he scented the dregs of Tom's coffee.

Tom smiled to himself, eternally amused by Loki's abhorrence of the smell of coffee, and pulled open the door to find a brawny blond man standing there, grinning widely. A blond man who looked rather like Chris Hemsworth, but with more muscles. It was a little disturbing how many muscles the real Thor had, and Tom almost wanted to take a picture so he could show it around, as a sort of 'This is how Chris _should_ look'. But then he'd have to explain why the Norse God of Thunder was in his doorway, and he was trying to keep the fact that he lived with Loki from becoming public knowledge.

Speaking of: "Can I help you?"

Thor's smile faded as he took in Tom's even tone and the similarities between the mortal and his estranged brother. "Ah... Would you happen to know of one named Loki? I was led to believe he resided at this residence," he said, uncertain.

Tom had probably been living with the God of Mischief for too long, because instead of going to get his lover, he frowned and tapped his chin, pretending to think. "Loki... Loki, Loki, Loki... I'm not sure..."

Thor wilted. "I see. Apologies for disturbing y–"

Tom snorted and waved a hand at the blond. "Wait, no, I'm sorry. That was mean." He looked over his shoulder to call, "Loki! Thor's here!"

"Tell him to leave!" Loki shouted back.

Tom rolled his eyes and turned back to where Thor was looking a little wounded. "Come on in," Tom offered, standing back and holding the door farther open.

Thor's face lit up as he stepped through the doorway. "You are most kind, mortal. And you seem to have me at a disadvantage."

Tom smiled and offered a smile. "Tom Hiddleston. Loki lives with me." Not the entire truth, but his lover's adopted brother didn't really need to know that they shared a bed. "What brings you looking for him? He's not in trouble, is he?" Tom frowned. Loki had been fairly well behaved, of late. He hadn't caused any property damage or deaths – accidental _or_ purposeful – in almost eight months.

Thor was quick to reassure him, "No, nothing of the sort. It is simply Loki's Hundreð Vika, in Asgard, and I came to wish him well."

"Hundreð Vika?" Tom repeated, trying to match the accent of the words.

Thor nodded. "As your custom of the Day of Birth, we celebrate the passing of one hundred Asgardian years. This week is Loki's."

Tom knew, from Loki, that years on Asgard were longer than on Earth – consisting of an even four hundred days – but time also passed just the littlest bit slower there. Loki's Hundreð Vika had likely already passed, on Earth, unremarked on by the god. Which seemed odd, given Loki's flair for the dramatic, and Tom wondered at that. "He made no mention of it," he commented.

Thor winced. "Loki has little fondness for extravagant celebrations, and he cannot talk his way out of those made on his behalf; he has never been fond of his Hundreð Vika. But I had hoped..." He trailed off as Loki finally emerged from the kitchen, mouth twisted with a parody of a smile.

"You thought I might appreciate a few days of seeing your disgusting visage?" he suggested, voice over-sweet. "Perhaps you could even talk me into returning to Asgard, where I shall be made to sit at Odin's right side while the court speaks of my betrayal behind their hands?"

"Loki–" Tom tried.

"I had only hoped to see that you are well," Thor interrupted, voice firm, though he had flinched at Loki's words. "I have no wish to take you anywhere, Brother."

Tom winced.

Loki's eyes blazed with fury. "I am _not_ your _brother_!" he snarled, hands lighting with dark green magic.

Tom jumped forward and grabbed the god's wrists, uncaring at the way the angry magic burned his arms. "Loki, look at me. Come on, right here." He smiled as Loki met his eyes, the burn of magic fading against his arms. "Hi. No destructive magic in the flat, please."

Loki's eyes flickered down to where Tom was holding his wrists, then twisted his hands so he could hold Tom's arms over the burns and healed them. "Idiot," he muttered, fondness in the word.

Tom sighed and leaned his head forward, touching foreheads with the god. "So, how wide _is_ the age gap?" he asked teasingly.

Loki's lips twitched. "Wide enough to verge on the disturbing," he returned, and Tom was glad to see the sparkle in his eyes.

Thor, of course, had to put in his two cents, asking, "Loki, you have taken to bedding a mortal?" He didn't sound disturbed at the thought, only curious.

Loki still tensed and snarled, "It's none of your concern."

Tom pressed his thumbs gently against the inside of Loki's wrists. "What do you want to do today?"

Loki blinked, shoulders loosening slightly. "Why?"

"Well, we're a little late, given how long you've been on Earth, but it would be nice to celebrate, right? Just, we'll do it your way. I'll call in and get the day off and we can do whatever you want."

Loki's eyes darted to one side, where he could likely see Thor around Tom. "And _him_?"

"Your choice," Tom promised. "But I would like it if you at least said hello. Without insulting him, please."

Loki huffed. " _Fine_ ," he muttered and pulled away from Tom.

Tom stepped out of the way and pulled his mobile from his pocket as Loki approached his brother. Thor, for his part, looked rather like a puppy expecting to be kicked.

"Thor," Loki said, tone perfectly even.

"Loki," Thor returned, voice somewhere between hopeful and hurt. "You look well. Better." He cleared his throat. "Happy."

Though he couldn't see it from this angle, Tom could envision the way confusion would flash across Loki's face, followed closely by suspicion, his eyes narrowing.

"What–" the younger god started, tone turning hostile.

"Loki," Tom interrupted, not looking up from his phone contacts.

Tom could practically _hear_ Loki grinding his teeth. "I have nothing ill to say of my life," he allowed.

"I'm glad," Thor said honestly. Something rustled and Tom looked up to watch as the elder god held out something wrapped in green paper. "I brought you a gift."

Loki hesitated, then carefully took it from Thor's hand. He turned it over a couple times, considering it, then flicked his fingers, vanishing the wrapping without a mess. A book was revealed – a magic book, if Tom wasn't mistaken – and Loki brushed his fingers gently against the cover.

"A Vanir group have been crafting new magics," Thor said. "I didn't think you had knowledge of them, though I am certain you have your own spells that will do much the same as most of these. They finished writing their work and made it available last month."

Loki nodded and motioned for the book to float over to the bookcase that Tom had bought for the god's books. There never seemed to be enough room whenever Loki acquired a new book, but they always fit, and this time was no exception. (Tom suspected there were spells on it to make it bigger, or the books smaller, or _something_ , but he'd never asked. If only because he knew Loki would never tell.)

"You may accompany us to the zoo," Loki told Thor absently, and the blond's face lit up. "If you irritate me, I will spell you helpless and gift you to the lions."

"Yes, Loki," Thor intoned, looking rather like a chastised child.

"So don't call him 'Brother'," Tom suggested before finally hitting the call button for Mikey's mobile and holding the phone to his ear.

"I'll try," Thor promised.

Loki sniffed, unimpressed, and stalked into the bedroom to change into clothing he could wear out of the flat.

_"Michael Symons."_

"Hey, Mikey. Just calling to say I won't be in today."

 _"How did you tick him off this time?"_ Mikey asked, amused. The only time Tom had ever called in was when he'd teased Loki too much one morning over breakfast, and the god had retaliated by magically sticking him to the ceiling over the dining room table and vanishing. He'd had an interesting time trying to explain why he couldn't come in to his agent, and Mikey had refused to believe that he was living with the God of Mischief until he'd come over to see Tom attached to the ceiling, then spent the next five minutes laughing helplessly.

"Nothing," Tom said drily, though the event was long ago enough that he could laugh about it, now. "It's...well, it's sort of his birthday. I'm taking him out."

_"Huh. They celebrate birthdays? I thought you said that was something new to him."_

"It's a bit more complicated than that, but, yeah, they celebrate anniversaries of their existence."

_"That sounds ominous."_

Tom snorted.

_"Yeah, okay. I'm not quite suicidal enough to tell you that you can't celebrate with your boyfriend on his special day. Try to keep him from destroying any buildings."_

"Ye of little faith," Tom returned, smiling. "Thanks, Mikey."

_"Sure. Enjoy yourself."_

Tom ended the call and slipped his mobile away. "Ready?" he asked as Loki came out of the bedroom, dressed in black trousers and an emerald green shirt that Tom had bought him when he caught the god staring at it in a shop window one afternoon.

"Yes," Loki decided.

"We're going to the zoo?"

"You disapprove?"

"It's your– What was it again? Hundreð Vika?" Loki nodded. "We can go wherever you want."

Loki considered that, then nodded. "The zoo. And you will take me out to dinner tonight."

Tom smiled and motioned for everyone to head for the front door. "Indeed I am," he agreed. "Did you have anywhere in particular in mind?"

Loki glanced towards Thor and sneered. "Anything that doesn't involve boar or goat."

"Pizza and ice cream?" Tom suggested and Loki's eyes lit up. He laughed and slipped his hand into the god's. "Pizza and ice cream it is."


	28. Doing Something Ridiculous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter Warnings:** Craaaaaack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have an explanation. I had no idea what to write, so I let the boys sort it out. I'm not sure whether that was wise or not... ^.^"
> 
> Most of you are going to whine about where I left it. I am ignoring you. Also, eating my dinner. So, XP

"What _are_ you doing?"

Thomas slammed the laptop closed and looked across the flat at Loki with those wide, too-innocent eyes that meant he was lying through his teeth. "Nothing!"

Loki stood from the dining room table and started a slow stalk towards the couch, where Thomas had been typing away – with the occasional noise of joy of disconcertion – for the last hour. It was the helpless giggles that had finally made Loki lose all concentration, and now his interest was piqued. "Nothing?" he purred.

Thomas' eyes darted around him for a moment, then he slid the laptop under the couch and arranged his body in a provocative manner, assisted by his lack of shirt and the marks Loki's mouth had left along his left clavicle the night before. "Maybe I was just thinking of _you_ ," he suggested, voice low.

Oh. Now _that_ was tempting. Loki stopped at the back of the couch and raked his eyes up Thomas' form, pleased to find the mortal's pupils blown wide when he reached his face. He leaned in close and licked at Thomas' lips, earning him a muffled whimper, then whispered, "You giggle when you think of me?"

There was a moment's stillness, and then Thomas' brain caught up to Loki's words and he jerked backwards. "N– That's not– I–"

Loki smirked. "What were you doing, Thomas?" he purred.

"It, uhm. It wouldn't interest you," Thomas decided, nodding and licking his lips.

"Then you wouldn't mind letting me know." Sometimes, Thomas didn't even _try_.

"I wouldn't want to bore you, though," Thomas said, lowering his eyes. "I'm sorry if my amusement was distracting."

 _Oh, you're not getting away so easily,_ Loki thought, pressing a hand under Thomas' chin and using it to make the human's eyes meet his. "You've distracted me, and now you must amuse me. Show me what you were giggling over, or I shall take matters into my own hands."

Thomas' eyes showed his internal battle – to show Loki of his own will, or to let Loki do to him as the god pleased, then look at the laptop when Thomas could no longer stop him – and he swallowed. "Let me get the laptop?"

Loki let go of the human's chin. "You had best hope this _doesn't_ bore me, Thomas," he commented.

Thomas let out a nervous laugh as he opened the screen and held it so Loki could see. It was opened to a word processing document, text covering part of the page:

> _'Brother,' Thor rumbled, sounding just the slightest disconcerted, 'please let me down.'_
> 
> _Loki laughed. 'Are you not enjoying yourself, Thor?' he asked, voice almost kind. He twisted his hand in a careful motion and Thor tilted slightly above him._
> 
> _Thor scrabbled at the air for a second before forcing himself to still. 'Incidentally,' he said, a hint of panic in his voice, 'no.'_
> 
> _Loki giggled and tilted Thor a bit more. 'I could turn you into a frog again, if you would_

Loki blinked at the document for a long moment before turning to observe the pink tinge to Thomas' cheeks. "You write tales of me tormenting Thor," he deadpanned and Thomas hunched in his seat. "For what reason?"

Thomas cleared his throat and managed, "Amusement?"

"Who's? I have not seen such on your twitter."

Thomas glanced towards him. "I, ah, do it anonymously. Well, sort of. There's a couple websites where you can post self-written stories about existing worlds. 'Fanfiction', it's called."

Loki was familiar with the term, had even read some when Thomas was at work and he was bored with the television or his magic books. "Show me," he ordered.

Thomas switched to a web browser and pulled up one of the sites Loki had read on before, going straight to the page of an author he wasn't familiar with. "It's nice not being well-known, sometimes," Thomas said quietly, pointing to the small number of page hits on the stories he'd posted.

Loki made a mental note of his lover's screenname, then ordered, "Put the laptop away."

Thomas took a moment to save his current work, then slipped the laptop back under the couch. "Am I in trouble?" he asked.

Loki teleported himself into the mortal's lap, their chests pressed flush. Thomas let out a startled gasp, then groaned when Loki ground down. "You very much are," the god agreed and set about mirroring the marks from last night on the human's right clavicle.

At least Thomas always enjoyed his punishment.


	29. Doing Something Sweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter Warnings:** Fluff, illness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, lacking in ideas, I let the boys decide. XD

Loki sort of whimpered and buried his head further into the pillows. He wondered where Thomas had gone to, but felt too ill to get angry at the mortal for leaving him while he was dying. The mean, stupid, nasty–

Loki sneezed.

"I'm _dying_ ," he moaned into the pillow.

"No you're not," Thomas said as the mattress dipped next to Loki. His fingers slipped into Loki's hair, carding soothingly through it.

Loki whimpered again and nudged his head up into the touch, uncaring about the throbbing that accompanied the action.

Thomas let out a quite laugh. "Can you sit up?"

"No."

"I have something that should make you feel better."

Loki turned his head just enough to glare at the mortal. At least the room was much darker than it had been – Thomas must have pulled the curtains over the window while Loki was being miserable by himself – so his eyes didn't feel like someone was dripping venom into them.

Thomas smiled and shook a bottle. "You have to drink some, and then you can go back to sleep. I promise it'll help."

"If you're lying–" Loki threatened, but his voice was weak and miserable, and he cut himself off with another sneeze.

"I know, I know. You'll make my life hell." Thomas shifted and helped Loki to sit up enough that he could manage to swallow without chancing the liquid going everywhere. A serving was poured out into a plastic cup attached to the top of the bottle, and Loki was made to drink it.

" _Vile_ ," he complained, scrubbing his teeth over his tongue to help remove the taste.

"I know. But it'll help," Thomas promised as he set the bottle on the side table. "Okay, lay back down."

Once Loki was situated again, blankets pulled up to his chin and pillows fluffed, Thomas turned to leave. Loki was feeling drowsy and maybe a little less miserable, and he would blame that later for the way he reached out and grabbed the mortal's arm, then whined, "Stay with me?"

Thomas blinked in surprise, then his expression softened and he squeezed Loki's hand. "Of course," he agreed and walked around the bed to climb in next to the god. When Loki curled into his warmth, Thomas let out a quiet laugh and kissed his forehead. "Sweet dreams, my love."

"...Kay..." Loki mumbled in response before letting himself drift away.


	30. Doing Something Hot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter Warnings:** Smut, clone-sex, het  & slash, voyeurism, BDSM elements, hand job, dirty talk, cum shot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometime around Day 18, I had this fantastic, super hot dream. And I knew it was going to end up being today's post. With any luck, I can do it justice. (And you people will have the porn you've been pestering me for. XD)
> 
> I know a couple of you are full of sadness and sorrow. (I am too. Sorta.) But fret not! I've still got two parts of _Interaction_ , and prompts from both MischiefRulesHere and mizstorage to keep on writing Tomki. (Also, a FrostIron fic that I occasionally poke at.) More fic will be had! It just won't be every day. ^.^"
> 
> No apologies for the lateness of this day. Writing smut is hard enough on an average day, and today was not average. My heart goes out to those who lost family and friends. ;.;
> 
> There is a masterlist for this fic – including the prompts, warnings, and links to this fic on AO3, LJ, & dA – at tumblr.

"I'm bored," Loki announced.

"Okay," Tom murmured, not looking up from the script he was pouring over.

Loki waited a few minutes, then ordered, "Amuse me."

"I'm busy. Amuse yourself." Tom paused for a moment in his reading to look up and give the smirking god a sharp look. "No structural damage or loss of life, please."

Loki pouted. "What, then?"

"You're plenty brilliant to find a way to amuse yourself without my help," Tom informed him and returned to his script.

Loki let out a huff and stalked into the bedroom.

Tom got another five minutes of reading in before he became aware of a faint whimpering noise coming from the bedroom. He glanced towards the open door, feeling a hint of concern. Surely Loki hadn't transported someone here to torment? (It wasn't the god's usual MO, but Loki had been known to do some pretty unexpected things when he was bored. Like the time he started a circus on the street in front of their flat, letting kids and neighbours enjoy the show for free, and demanding two pound from anyone driving by. The city hadn't been pleased with the clean-up, especially since Loki hadn't bothered to vanish the animal droppings with the animals.

But, still. Usually, Loki's attempts to alleviate boredom only involved other people in ways that were fun for _them_ , as well as him.)

The person whimpering paused long enough to cry, "Not th-ere. N– What are you– Ah!"

It sounded feminine and Tom hurried out of his seat and to the bedroom doorway, unwilling to let Loki torment some poor girl.

He needn't have worried, as it appeared; he recognised the young woman on the bed as Loki's female form, naked. Loki – or a clone, considering one of the two had to be – was curled behind her, one hand rubbing against a nipple while the other was pressing in and out between her closed thighs. He was licking along her shoulder, over teeth marks that were spotted with red, and she gasped between whimpers every time he paid extra attention to one of the red spots.

Tom's mouth felt quite dry as he watched his lover play with – or be played with by (he could never tell Loki and his clones apart, unless he was touching them) – her-/himself.

 _I should go back to my script,_ Tom knew. _He's only trying to distract me._

As with many of Loki's attempts to alleviate his own boredom, he was managing to distract Tom, no matter how busy he'd been prior.

The male Loki stopped touching his female counterpart so he could reposition her legs; one curled in front of her, the other pulled back, over his legs, opening her to his leaking cock. "Keep them there," he ordered, voice hard.

The female let out another whimper and nodded. She tried to shift slightly, to make the position more comfortable, but he dug blunt nails into her inner thigh in punishment. "Sorry!" she gasped out, instantly stilling.

The male ran the hand that had bit into her thigh up her stomach and breasts until it reached her chin, which he then turned so their mouths nearly met. "Don't do it again," he said.

"I won't," she promised, shaking slightly.

The male smiled in a way that always sent a chill up Tom's back when it was aimed at him, then forced the female into a bruising kiss, pressing up into her at the same time.

Tom and the female Loki both let out a noise. Hers was muffled by her counterpart's mouth, but nothing quieted Tom's, and the male Loki's eyes caught his. They _glinted_ , promising nothing but trouble for the mortal in the doorway.

An arm slipped around Tom's waist, down his pelvis, and cupped the bulge in the front of his trousers. Tom let out a hiss and leaned back against the god – the _real_ one, he recognised – that had appeared behind him. "Enjoying yourself?" Loki purred into his ear.

"Are you no longer bored?" Tom asked in response, trying valiantly to keep his hips from pushing into Loki's hand. It was always better to not let Loki know how how much control he had over Tom.

Loki let out a breathy chuckle in Tom's ear, and it made him shudder. "Amuse me," he ordered and pressed his hand tight against Tom's trapped member. No friction, only pressure.

Tom swallowed and closed his eyes against the scene acting out on their bed, hoping getting rid of one of his senses would help him regain the control that was quickly unravelling. "I should get back to–" Loki bit the hinge of his jaw and squeezed the front of his trousers at the same time, forcing Tom to choke back a shout. "...tease," he managed on a strained breath.

"Open your eyes."

Tom did so and found that the male Loki on the bed had let his hands wander over the body he was fucking: One scratched nails over the female's breasts, the other was back between her legs, pressing against her pelvis to keep her from bucking instinctually as two fingers rubbed hard against her clit. Whimpers and moans leaked out with saliva from between their locked lips.

"Wouldn't it be lovely to join them?" Loki whispered and Tom bit the inside of his cheek, trying to keep silent. "Or, perhaps, to be one of them? You could have control over me, make me whimper and beg while you used me as you pleased."

"Loki," Tom let out, half entreaty to stop, half to keep on.

The hand cupping his cock pulled away and Tom couldn't help but whimper, reaching down with unsteady hands to grab at Loki's wrist.

"Or, perhaps," Loki said, slipping his hand into Tom's boxers, the front of his jeans undoing themselves to make room, "you would prefer to be controlled." He wrapped his hand around Tom's cock and gave it a sharp stroke before stopping at the base. "I would lay you out as I please, order you not to come. I could use you and use you until you were a sobbing mess on the covers. And still, you would have no release." The hand moved again, once up, once down, hard and fast, and then stopped again, uncaring as Tom bucked against it, whining in the back of his throat. "Oh, you would enjoy that," Loki whispered before nibbling at Tom's earlobe, light enough to cause no pain, but hard enough that he felt it even past the distraction of pleasure.

On the bed, the male clone tired of the original position and forced the female onto her hands and knees, kneeling behind her and slamming in hard while he pulled on her hair. The female keened, back bowed at an almost painful angle, breasts brushing against the covers at each thrust.

"L-Lo–" Tom cut himself off with a gasp as the hand in his pants moved again, up and down. " _Please_."

"Should we let her come?" Loki asked as the hand not down Tom's pants crept up, under his shirt, smoothing over his abdomen and over nipples sensitive with desire.

Tom nodded, a little unsteady.

Loki chuckled, warm and a little cruel. "So kind? No, I don't think we'll make it so easy for her."

On the bed, the male clone let out a long groan and stilled, buried to the hilt in his counterpart and hand still tangled in her hair. The female, for her part, writhed around him, gasping out, "Please, please, _please_."

And then the male clone vanished. The female collapsed to the bed, shaking. One hand moved down to her sex, but before she could start rubbing, the Loki at Tom's back barked out, "Desist! Come over here. _Now_."

She stumbled off the bed and crawled over to them, green eyes dark with lust and want. "How can I serve?" she asked, voice breathless and low. And, God, the things having Loki kneeling in front of him did to Tom, clone or no.

"How would you like her, my sweet?" Loki purred into Tom's ear. "Shall we take her against the wall? One of us in each of her whorish holes." A jerk of the hand on Tom's cock and Tom gasped as he bucked, trying to find more friction. "Perhaps she would be better served with her mouth around you, paying dues to her lord and master?"

Tom choked out a laugh as the hand moved over him again. "Not– Master–" he managed, because claiming mastery over Loki, even in jest, was dangerous.

"No?" Loki asked, voice light, but there was a note of warning there that made Tom shudder, uncertain if it was from pleasure or fear. "Who is your master, Thomas?"

Tom shook his head. " _Please_ ," he gasped.

Loki bit at the hinge of his jaw again, a warning. "Who is your master, Thomas?" he repeated.

"You are," Tom allowed.

"Yes, I am," Loki agreed and his hand on Tom's cock was moving steadily, now, bringing him to the edge of pleasure with ease. "Don't ignore me again."

Tom managed a nod, grasping at Loki's arms to hold onto something, because the edge was right _there_.

"Come," Loki ordered.

Tom tensed as the god wrung his release from him, cock held at just the right angle to paint the female clone's face with streaks of white. She'd closed her eyes, clearly having expected it, and when Tom slumped in Loki's arms, spent, her tongue peeked out from between plush lips and caught a strand dripping from the end of her nose.

"You're going to kill me," Tom moaned, turning his head and nosing against Loki's cheek.

Loki's eyes caught his just before their mouths sealed together, and there was something dark and broken in the ancient green orbs, something Tom always shied away from contemplating.

Instead of thinking on Loki's silent demons, Tom reached back and cupped the front of the god's trousers. They were damp – precum, judging by how warm and rigid Loki's cock was behind the single layer of fabric – and Loki groaned and the touch. He didn't stop Tom, though, so the human reached inside his trousers and pumped him twice before the god tensed and came, semen spilling along Tom's hand and wrist like a brand of ice; Loki's true nature had always shown through in the temperature of his ejaculate.

Tom pulled away from Loki as he ended the kiss, turning so he could watch the god as he licked his semen-covered hand. "Still bored?" he asked, teasing because Loki looked loose and amused.

"Mmm. Not really," Loki decided, stepping forward and licking a drip running down the back of Tom's hand. "Not at the moment."

Tom snorted. "How long is 'the moment'?"

"Two hours?"

"So I can go back to my script?"

"For two hours."

"You're so generous."

Loki smirked and flicked his fingers, straightening and cleaning both their clothing, as well as cleaning Tom's hand. "Not so generous," he replied, nodding over Tom's shoulder.

Tom turned to look and there, behind him, knelt the female Loki. Her face had been cleaned, but she was still naked and clearly aroused. "Two hours," Loki breathed into Tom's ear, pressing again to the human's back. "She's always at her most beautiful when she's desperate."

Tom leaned down to steal a kiss from the clone, then flashed a smile at the real thing. "Yes, you are," he agreed, then walked back to the couch and his script, Loki laughing loudly behind him.


End file.
